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THE LIFE 



OF THE 



EMPRESS JOSEPHINE, 



Jiirst Wiift of Uapltflit. 



V 

Pv' CO^ HE AD LEY, 
t « 

ATITHOB OP " WOMEN OP THE BIBLE," " LIFE OP LAFAYETTE," " LIFS OF MAEY 
QUEIIN OF SCOTS," '• LIFE OF KOSSUTH," ETft 



NEW YOEK: 
0. M. SAXTON, 25 PARK ROW. 

1859. 






S%0\ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, m the year one thousand eight hundred 

and fifty-six, 

BY MILLER, OETON & MULLIGAN, 

In tba Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York. 



PREFACE. 



In offering another biography of Josephine to the 
admirers of that brilliant woman, it was the design of 
both the Author and Publishers, to furnish in a more 
popular form than any similar work in print, an im- 
partial delineation of her character, and a general 
view of the events upon the field of history across 
which she made a sad and brilliant transit. A strictly 
original work is not claimed, as no access could be 
had to manuscripts of the departed, or to the archives 
of France. For the correspondence, we are mainly 
indebted to Memos ; and have referred for various 
interesting facts, to Bourrienne, Hazlitt, Yon Rotteck, 
Stott, Alison, &c. 

Josephine, for the times in which she lived, was a 
model of female character ; and if this volume shall 
make the study of it more general, it will so far ex- 
tend the admiration of the pure and beautiful, in 



vi PREFACE. 

contrast with all the forms of corruption humanity 
could present in a period of bloody Revolution. The 
Empress was a greater personage than ISTapoleon in 
the elements of moral grandeur, and retained her 
sovereignty in the hearts of the people, while he ruled 
by the unrivalled splendor of his genius 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



PAdB 

Interest of Josephine's History — Birth and Family — Early 
Years — First Love — Singular Prediction — Circumstances 
which cherished Superstition — ^Attachment broken off — Be- 
comes acquainted with Beauharnais — Is Married — Visits 
the Court of France — Makes Provincial Tours — The Birth of 
Eugene and Hortense — Domestic Difficulties — Separation 
from her Husband — Retirement — Returns to Martinique — 
Residence there — Her Return to France — Incidents of the 
Yoyage — Is united to her Family — Origin of the Fi ench Rev- 
olution — Estates General convoked — Beauharnais a Member 
— Upon its Dissolution again enters the Army — His Prin- 
ciples and Humanity — Elected to the Ifational Convention — 
Appointed Commander on the German Frontier — ^Despatch 
to the Convention, . . . , . . , .11 



CHAPTER II. 

Fall of the Gironde — ^Beauharnais arrested and imprisoned — 
Letter of Josephine to her Aunt — Friends forsake her — Cor- 
respondence with Beauharnais — Levity in view of Death, 
and Infidelity during the Reign of Terror — Josephine's Kind- 
ness to the Suffering — Examination of Beauharnais — Louis 
obtains an Interview for Beauharnais with his Family — Jose- 
phine's Description of the Scene — Parental Influence — Beau- 
harnais betrayed — His danger increased by new events — 
Charge of Conspiracy — Eugene and Hortense examined — 
Josephine's Account of the Transaction — Again visits the 
Luxembourg — Seenea in Prison — Letters — Robespierre, . 30 



Vin COI^TTElifTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

PAGB 

Josephine undeceived — Her Arrest — Description of the Scene 
— The Prison — Hortense and Eugene — Josephine's Compo- 
sure — Her Kindness to the Prisoners — Correspondence with 
Beauharnais renewed — Romantic Story — Prison Horrors — 
Beauharnais' Interest in the Young Maniac — Returning 
Hope — Levity of Prisoners — Josephine's Maternal Character 
— Robespierre's Policy — The Interposition of Friends — Jose- 
phine's Appeal to Sigas — Result — Meeting of Beauharnais 
and Josephine — Crisis in Destiny — Last Hours of Beauhar- 
nais — His Execution — Relics unexpectedly received by Jose- 
phine — Her Distress and Danger — Cheered by the Prophecy 
of Euphemia — Circumstances of Robespierre's Death — Lib- 
eration of Josephine — Interest in her Children — Famine — 
Domestic Suffering — Survey of the Revolution — Beauharnais 
Family toward the close of the year 1795, . . . c*> 



CHAPTER IV. 

Bonaparte in Paris — A Glance at his History — Personal Ap- 
pearance — His Exploit the 13th Vendemaire — Acquaintance 
with Josephine — Her views of a Second Marriage — Hesitates 
— Napoleon frequents the mansion of Madam De Beauhar- 
nais — His Conversational Powers — Marriage — Leaves his 
Bride to join the Army — Brilliant Success — Correspondence 
— Eugene's Heroism — Letters to Josephine — Her Residence 
at Milan — Bonapai'te's Peculiarities, and Kindness to Jose- 
phine's Family — He marches to Rastadt — Returns to Paris — 
Josephine joins him, ..... 103 



CHAPTER V. 

Departure of Napoleon for Egypt — ^The Parting with Josephine 
at Toulon — She retires to Plombieres — Accident — Sends for 
Hortense — Excursion Home — Rare qualities of Josephine's 
Chai'acter — Consequences of her confinement at Plombieres — 
Rumors of Napoleon's Disasters in Egypt — Malmaison — Jose- 
phine watched by secret Enemies — Charges of Infidelity 
transmitted to Napoleon — Her Innocence Vindicated — Ma- 
ternal Solicitude and Faithfulness — Napoleon's Return to 
France — Unfortunate Mistake — His Anger — The Reconcilia- 
tion — France, . . . . . .12 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER yi. 

PAGE. 

Cfapoleon's D^.sign — Josephine's Political Views — Eugene — 
Convivial f^eenes — The 18th Brumaire — Napoleon First Con- 
sul — The Pesult — Murat's Marriage — His Treachery — Jose- 
phine's Meditation — Life in the Tuilleries — Josephine — Bona- 
parte — He orders the Improvement of Malmaison — Escapes 
Assassination — Again Crosses the Alps — Battle of Marengo 
— Relaxation at Malmaison — Josephine's Benevolence — Con- 
spiracy and the Infernal Machine — Marriage of Hortense — 
Character of Louis Bonapai'te — Person and Character of Hor- 
tense — Incidents by the way — Important Events — Peace of 
Amiens — Gayety of the People — Home of the Consul — Re- 
newal of Hostilities with England — Accident — Napoleon's 
View of Death, ...... 146 

CHAPTER VII. 

Josephine and the Bourbon Conspirators — Duke D'Enghien — 
His Death — Josephine's Grief, and her Sympathy for the 
Conspirators — Bonaparte's Movements — His Ambition — 
Views of the Senate — Bonaparte becomes Emperor of France 
— Oath administered to the Legion of Honor — ^Emotions of 
Josephine — Royal Court — ^Excursions to Boulogne — The Prin- 
cess of Baden — Incidents — Josephine's Forebodings — Reli- 
gious Marriage of Josephine — The Coronation, , , 201 



CHAPTER VIIL 

France and Josephine at this period of History — Rejoicings of 
the People — Important Events — Tour to Milan — Napoleon 
visits Brienne — "With Josephine Crosses the Alps — Plain of 
Marengo — ^The Coronation at Milan — Sojourn there — News 
of probable Hostilities — Josephme at Genoa — The rapid 
travel to Paris — Preparations for "War — Josephine Regent of 
France — Letter to Cambaceres — Napoleon's Victories — ^Arri- 
val of a Courier — Marriage of Eugene — Josephine's Letter 
upon the expected Marriage of her Niece, Stephanie De Beau- 
harnais — The .Royal Family — Domestic Arrangements — Bo- 
naparte's Habits and Illness — Hunting Excursions — Hatred 
of Bonaparte's Relatives toward Josephine — Her Kindness 
in return — Napoleon's Movements, . . . 2S7 

A* 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IX. 

PA6B. 

A new phase in Josephine's Destiny — I^apoleon's Love — His 
Desire for a Successor — Rumor that the Prince Royal of Hol- 
land is to be the Heir-apparent — Character of the Young 
Prince — His Affection for Bonaparte — Alternate Hope and 
Fear — The Prince dies — Josephine's Grief — Napoleon's Re- 
turn from Tilsit — ^Treatment of the Empress — Journey to It- 
aly — Scenes at the Capital — ISTapoleon — Josephine's Diary — 
Spanish Affairs — Incidents of the Journey — The Emperor 
meets Alexander — Results — Josephine — Return to Paris — 
Bonaparte's Designs — Preparations for a Divorce — Decree of 
the Council — Consummation, .... 274 



CHAPTER X. 

Josephine's Retirement and Sorrow — Her Residence at Mal- 
maison and Navarre — Maria Louisa — National Joy at the 
Birth of Young Napoleon — Congratulations of Josephine — 
Incidents of life at Navarre — Bonaparte's .Campaign to Rus- 
sia — His Disasters — ^The Fidelity of Josephine — Letters — Na- 
poleon abdicates the Throne — Josephine receives the Hom- 
age and Sympathy of the Great — Her last Illness and Deaf 
— Funeral — Summary of her Character, . 838 



LIFE OF THE EMPPiESS JOSEPHINE. 



en AFTER I. 

INTEREST OF JOSEPHINe's HISTORY. BIRTH AND FAMILY. EARLY TEARS. 

FIRST LOVE. SINGULAR PREDUITION. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH CHER- 
ISHED SUPERSTITION. ATTACHMENT BROKEN OFF. BECOMES ACQUAINTED 

WITH BEAUHARNAIS. IS MARRIED. VISITS THE COURT OF FRANCE.- 

MAKES PROVINCIAL TOURS. THE BIRTH OF EUGENE AND H0RTP:NSE. — 

DOiMP:STIC DIFFICULTIES. SEPAR.VflON FROM HER HUSBAND. RETIRE- 
MENT. RETURNS TO MARTINIQUE. RESIDENCE THERE. HER RETURN TO 

FRANCE. INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. IS UNITED TO HER FAMILY. 

ORIGIN OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. ESTATES GENERAL CONVOKED. 

BEAUHARNAIS A MEMBER. UPON ITS DISSOLUTION AGAIN ENTERS THE 

ARMY. HIS PRINCIPLES AND HUMANITY. ELECTED TO THE NATIONAL 

CONVENTION. APPOINTED COMMANDER ON THE GERMAN FRONTIER- 
DESPATCH TO THE CONVENTION. 

The name of Josephine is invested witli a romantic 
and mournful interest. From the quiet life of her 
island-home, she rose to the splendor of royalty which 
borrowed lustre from her virtues ; then, heart-broken, 
found retirement, where, with a meek resignation that 
contrasts beautifully with thd* untamed ambition of the 
illustrious exile of St. Helena, she lived till her death. 
Besides she is identified with those great events which 
mark the ebb and flow of the mighty tide bearing tlie 
destiny of universal humanity ; revolutions whose f5ub- 



12 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

siding swell left imperishable characters and nrie- 
morials, like the diluvial epochs that have scarred the 
continents and changed the ocean-bed. These strug- 
gles will be studied with increasing interest by prince 
and people, the monarch and the sullen serf who chafes 
against his heavy chain ; till man's "inalienable rights' 
are wrung from the unwilling hand of despotism, while 
rational liberty, sanctioned and guarded by religion, 
is secured to the awakening nations. 

In this view, Josephine is a heroine of history, alike 
interesting to the contemplative mind, which studies 
biography for the entertainment it affords, and to the 
Statesman who would obtain lessons of political wis- 
dom, and become familiar with the origin and progress 
of revolutions. 

Josephine was born on the island of Martinique, the 
23d day of June, 1763. Mile. Le Normand, who is 
questionable authority, puts the date of her birth one 
day later, the 24th — memorable for the official transfer 
of the island to the French power. Her father, M. 
Tasher, in early life joined the army, and was pro- 
moted to the captaincy in a regiment of cavalry. This 
rank, without farther evidence, indicates clearly noble 
descent; for not until the brilliant innovations upon 
ancient custom by Napoleon, were officers taken with- 
out regard to lineage, frOm the common people. He 
was ordered to the West Indies in 1758, where, retir- 
ing from service, he settled upon the estate La Pagerie. 
Yery little is known respecting the childhood and 
youth of his wife, Mademoiselle de Sanois, connected 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 13 

with a respectable family who came from a southern 
province of France, to retrieve the reverses of fortune 
in the New World. She married M. Tasher in 1761. 

The data are imperfect, from which to gather a 
complete biography of their gifted daughter ; the asso- 
ciations, and the moral influences which attended her 
juvenile years, giving complexion to her character, and 
shaping her destiny, are comparatively unknown. 

She alludes to the companionship. of Maria, a foster- 
sister, or, as it is affirmed by some writers, an elder 
daughter of M. Tasher, a contemplative and beautiful 
girl. In the enjoyment of this intimacy, surrounded 
by an atmosphere of the finest temperature, and with 
the solemn ocean spread at her feet, she rapidly de- 
veloped both her intellectual and physical powers. 
Kind to all, especially to the slaves of the plantation, 
she was admired and caressed ; careless-hearted as the 
gazelle, she danced away the hours beneath a sky that 
seemed to laugh in her joyous face. She had a passion 
for music, and would wander away to the sea-shore or 
a forest solitude, and pour her melodies like a wild-bird 
on the air. Of her rich tones. Napoleon said in after 
years, " The first applause of the French people sound- 
ed to my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine." 

The inhabitants called her the " pretty Creole," and 
her genius was equal to her charms. Her lively im- 
agination and quick perceptions, made her progress in 
study a pleasant amusement. To copy her own lan- 
guage, "I did not like the restraint of my clothing, nor 
to be cramped in my movements. I ran, I jumped, 



14 LIFE OF JOSEPHINTS. 

and danced, from morning to night. Wliy restrain 
the wild movements of my childhood ? I wanted to 
do no hurt to those from whom I received any evi- 
dences of affection. Nature gave me a great facility 
for anything I undertook. Learning to read and write 
was mere pastime." 

She passed much of her time during this period of 
early youth with Madam Renaudin, an amiable aunt, 
whose mansion was the resort of many cultivated per- 
sons, among the colonial inhabitants of the islands. 
Her native refinement was brought out by this culture, 
and she bloomed into womaahood, " the very persona- 
tion of ^Tace." Love had unconsciously thrown its 
spell upon her blithesome spirit. There was living on 
the island an English family, who, sharing in the mis- 
fortunes of Prince Edward, lost their possessions, and 
self-exiled, had fixed their residence near the home of 
Josephine. 

Among these noble fugitives was young William, 
with whom she rambled and played from their child- 
hood. The parents of each had seen and consented 
to the attachment, and Josephine was promised in 
marriage, when mature age should make the union 
proper. Mr. De K — -— was called unexpectedly to 
England, to prove his heirship to the estate of a de- 
ceased lord, and was accompanied thither by his only 
son. This was a sad blow for Josephine. With 
Maria, who was inclined to melancholy, and loved soli- 
tude, her sprightly and. social nature had less sympathy 
than with other female friends, to whom she would re- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 15 

rate the story of her. attachment, beguiling the hours 
with omens and day-dreams concerning her destiny 
and absent lover. One day she met a mulatto woman, 
who was generally known as the magician, on account 
of her skjll in foretelling coming events. She bore the 
name of Euphemia, and also the familiar surname of 
David. The following is Josephine's account of the 
mterview : — 

" The old sibyl, on beholding me, uttered a loud ex- 
clamation, and almost by force seized my hand. She 
appeared to be under the greatest agitation. Amused 
at these absurdities, as I thought them, I allowed her to 
proceed, saying, ' So you discover something extra- 
ordinary in my destiny?' * Yes.' 'Is happiness oi 
misfortune to be my lot ?' ' Misfortune : ah, stop ! — 
and happiness too.' ' You take care not to commit 
yourself, my good dame ; your oracles are not the most 
intelligible.' * I am not permitted to render them more 
clear,' said the v^^oman, raising her eyes with a myste- 
rious expression toward heaven. ' But to the point,' 
replied I, for my curiosity began to be excited ; ' what 
read you concerning me in futurity ?' ' What do I see 
in the future ? You will not believe me if I speak.' 
* Yes, indeed, I assure you. Come, my good mother, 
what am I to fear and hope ?' * On your head be it 
then ; listen : you will be married soon ; that union 
will not be happy ; you will become a widow, and 
then — then you will be Queen of France ! Some 
happy 3^ears will be yours; but you will die in ahos 
pital. amid civil commotions.' 



16 LIFE OF JOSEPHIJiTE. 

" On concluding these words,", continued Josephine 
" the old wonnan burst froni the crowd, and hurried 
away, as fast as her limbs, enfeebled by age, would 
permit. I forbade .the bystanders to molest or banter 
the pretended prophetess on this ridiculous prediction ; 
and took occasion, from the seeming absurdity of the 
whole proceeding, to caution the young negresses how 
they gave heed to such matters. Henceforth, I thought 
of the affair only to laugh at it with my relatives. 
But afterward, when my husband had perished on the 
scaffold, in spite of my better judgment, this prediction 
forcibly recurred to my mind after a lapse of years ; 
and though I was myself tht-n in prison, the transac- 
tion daily assumed a less improbable character, and I 
ended by regarding the fulfilment as almost a matter 
of course." 

The circumstances of such a prediction are among 
the authenticated facts in her history : yet to minds 
unaffected with superstitions of the kind, the result will 
appear only one of those striking coincidences which 
sometimes occur in the lowest species of this prophetic 
legerdemain. 

Josephine was almost necessarily superstitious. 
From the dawn of consciousness, she was under the in- 
fluence of parental faith in the marvellous, and listened 
to the wild tales of unearthly scenes, common among 
the negro population, till her imagination was excited 
with the mysteries of human life ; and that desire to 
read the future, more or less active in every mind, be- 
came a painful solicitude, that not unfrequently made 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 17 

her sensitive spirit recoil with trembling from her un- 
tolding destiny. This was no blemish upon her char- 
acter ; for under similar culture the Puritans of Eng- 
land and America became monomaniacs in their be- 
Hef of the supernatural, and the very phenomena of na- 
ture, to their disordered fancy, blent with them the 
gloom and the glories of eternit}'-. 

Thus passed the years to this lovely maiden, so soon 
to enter upon the arena of French revolutions, and 
play her part with kings, under the eye of startled 
Europe. Among flowers and birds — on the lawn and 
by the sea-side — her gentle heart unfolded its pure affec- 
tions, and sighed over visions of love which had faded. 
Parental opposition, with circumstances unknown to 
her, interposed a hopeless separation between her and 

William De K ; though she never forgot him on 

whom she had lavished the wealth of her young heart's 
devotion, even while she graced a throne, and won the 
admiration of millions. 

But new events now engaged her thoughts, and 
opened before her the career of greatness and of trial. 
Yiscount Alexander de Beauharnais, who held estates 
in Martinique under lease to M. Kenaudin, visited the 
island to establish his claim to the inheritance. He, 
however, had some time before come to the New Con- 
tinent, with a commission in the French army, fired 
with the enthusiasm for liberty, which had just burst 
like a conflao^ration from the bosom of the American 
Colonies iipon the world. 

Through Madam Renaudin he became acquainted 



13 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

with the M. Tasher family, and interested in Jose 
phine, who was now in the glory of her youthful 
beauty. That influential lady had fixed her choice 
upon Beauharnais for the future husband of her ad- 
mired pro^e^e; and though the design met with bitter 
opposition from relatives, this obstacle yielded to the 
unaffected kindness and winning manners of Jose- 
phine, and the marriage took place soon after she had 
passed her sixteenth year. Beauharnais, though sev- 
eral years older, was young in appearance, and of 
commanding figure. During their visit to the capital 
of France, she was flattered by the nobility, and upon 
her presentation at court, received the most marked 
attentions from Marie Antoinette ; who seemed scarce- 
ly less to admire the accomplished man who had intro- 
duced the fair Creole into the brilliant circle she adorn- 
ed — and called him the beau danseur of the royal 
saloons. 

The months vanished like visions to the bewildered 
Josephine, in the splendid scenes crowding the gay 
circles of Paris and Versailles. Weary of pleasure, 
she accompanied her husband in provincial tours, visit- 
ing the ancestral domains in Brittany, where she gave 
birth to Eugene, an only son, and afterwards the dis- 
tinguished Viceroy of Italy. 

This was in 1780 ; and in 1783 Hortense was born, 
who became Queen of Holland. Though surrounded 
by all that could gratify ambition and taste — the em- 
bellishments of art, lavished on a beautiful residence — 
gorgeous equipage and retinue — happy in the domestic 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIIjq^E. 19 

relations, and beloved by a legion of friends, a midnight 
cloud was gathering upon her radiant future. Beau- 
harnais had caught the moral infection which pervad- 
ed the fashionable world, and made its shining exterior 
delusive as the phosphorescent light that sometimes 
plays upon the surface of a decaying form, from which 
life has departed. Josephine suspected his fidelity, 
while he in turn, it would seem from the partial dis- 
, closures made of this unpleasant and obscure transac- 
tion, doubted the sincerity of her affection, through the 
influence of a jealous female friend, who intimated that 
the heart of his creole wife was given unalterably to 
another. Whether in any degree she gave occasion 
for suspicion is of little consequence, where the guilt 
and responsibility of what followed are plainly his 
own. 

His notions of conjugal fidelity in common with the 
courtiers of that period, and those that prevailed during 
the reign of the dissolute Charles of England, were un- 
worthy the man who won the hand of Josephine ; and 
she resented the insult he offered to her truthful and 
virtuous spirit, by his gallantries toward a woman she 
despised. It was not long, when the language of affec- 
tion was exchanged for accusation and keen retort, 
before that knell of happiness, separation, passed his 
lips. 

He designed to interpose a final barrier, which stung 
the proud heart of Josephine, and with weeping she 
besought him to avert this humiliating blow. It ap- 
pears, however, that he commenced the suit for a 
9. 



20 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

divorce, which, by her own management and the in- 
fluence of friends, was defeated. In her retirement al 
this time, she felt all that heavy gloom, and abandon 
of sorrow, wnich fall like night on noonday, upon a 
heart in v^hich feeling was the ruling element, moving 
ever to the Cynosure of love, and whose romantic 
dreams seemed already in their fulfilment, when they 
dissolved in tears. Her reading harmonized with the 
hue of her mournful thoughts. " Night Thoughts," 
and " Hervey's Meditations," became familiar books, 
and led her contemplations to the vast realities of a 
life to come — " the littleness of time, and the greatness 
of that eternity which lies beyond it." Whether she 
cherished any deep and practical religious impressions, 
imparting to her character that purest element of hero- 
ism. Christian fortitude, is not known. 

Returning to her beloved Martinique, she found re- 
pose among the friends of her girlhood, and in the 
quiet beauty of her sea-girdled home. Though tran- 
quillity was restored to outward life, yet hke the sun- 
ht tide she sometimes watched, laying its undulations 
in foam at her feet, while the sobbings of the retiring 
storm were heard in the distance ; there were emotions 
which had no rest in her bosom, while memory turned 
to France, and the tempest which had driven her an 
exile from a husband and son to whom her affections 
cluag. 

So the years fled, till the tidings reached Josephine 
that Beauharnais was prepared to welcome her back 
with renewed kindness and devotion. With a woman's 



i 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIJSTB. 21 

heart she had longed for an honorable /estoration to 
her lost position as wife and mother, and hear again 
the music of Eugene's filial voice, and she prepared to 
embark. Long afterwards, she gave the following 
simple narration of her voyage before the ladies of her 
court at Navarre, while they were admiring her un- 
rivalled collection of jewels, whose richness and beauty 
attracted the attention of her most illustrious visitors. 

" Believe me, my young friends, that splendor is not 
to be envied which does not constitute happiness. I 
shall doubtless very much surprise you, by saying that 
the gift of :i pair of old shoes afforded me at one time 
greater satisfaction than all these diamonds now before 
you ever did." Here her youthful auditors could 
hardly refrain from visibly intimating their conjecture 
that this remark was intended as a pleasantry. Jose- 
phine's serious air assuring them of their mistake, they 
began, with one accord, to express their respectful de- 
sire of hearing the history of these famous shoes, which, 
to Iheir imaginations, already promised greater won- 
ders than the marvels of the glass-slipper. 

" Yes, ladies, it is certain, that of all the presents I 
ever in my life received, the one which gave me the 
greatest pleasure was a "pair of old shoes — and these, 
too, of coarse leather. This you will understand in the 
sequel. 

"Quitting Martinico, I had taken a passage on board 
a ship, where we were treated with an attention which 
I shall never forget. Having separated from my firi:=t 
husband, I was far from rich. Obliged to return to 



22 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 

France on family affairs, the passage had absorbed the 
major part of my resources; and, indeed, not without 
Qiuch difficulty had I been able to provide the most 
indispensable' requibites for our voyage. Hortense, 
obliging and lively, performing with much agility the 
dances of the negroes, and singing their songs with 
surprising correctness, greatly amused the sailors, who, 
from being her constant playfellovv^s, had become her 
favorite society. No sooner did she obsetve me to be 
engaged, than, mounting upon deck, and there the ob- 
ject of general admiration, she repeated all her little 
exercises to the satisfaction of every one. An old 
quarter-master was particularly attached to the child ; 
and whenever his duties permitted him a moment's 
leisure, he devoted the interval to his young friend, 
who, in turn, doated upon the old man. What with 
running, leaping, and dancing, my daughter's slight 
shoes were fairly worn out. Knowing she had not 
another pair, and fearing I would forbid her going 
upon deck should this defect in her attire be discoverbdj 
Hortense carefully concealed the disaster, and one day 
I experienced the distress of beholding her return, 
leaving every footmark in blood. Fearing some ter- 
rible accident, I asked, in affright, if she was hurt. 
'No, mamma!' 'But see, the blood is streaming* from 
your feet.' ' It is nothing, I assure you.' Upon ex- 
amining how matters stood, I found the shoes literally 
in tatters, and her feet dreadiully torn by a nail. Ws 
were not yet more than half-way ; and before reaching 
France it seemed impossible to procure another pair 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 23 

of shoes. I felt quite overcome at the idea of the 
sorrow my poor Hortense would suffer, as also at the 
danger to which her health might be exposed, by con- 
finement in my miserable little cabin. We began to 
weep bitterly, and found no solace in our grief. At 
this moment entered our good friend the quarter- mas- 
ter, and, with honest bluntness, inquired the cause of 
our tears. Hortense, sobbing all the while, eagerly 
informed him that she would no more get upon deck, 
for her shoes were worn, and mamma had no others to 
give her. 'Nonsense^' said the worthy seaman; 'is 
that all ? I have an old pair somewhere in my chest. 
You, madam, can cut them to the shape, and I'll splice 
them up again as well as need be. Shiver my timbers ! 
on board ship you must put up with many things ; we 
are neither landsmen nor fops, pr)vided we have the 
necessary — that's the most principal.' Without giving 
time for a reply, away hastened the kind quarter-master 
in search of his old shoes. These he soon after brought 
to us with a triumphant air, and they were received by 
Hortense with demonstrations of the most lively joy. 
To work we set with all zeal, and before day closed 
my daughter could resume her delightful duties of sup- 
plying the evening's diversion to the crew. I again 
repeat, never was a present received with greater 
thankfulness. It has since often been matter of self- 
reproach that I did not particularly inquire into the 
name and history of our benefactor, who was known 
on board only as Jacques. It would have been grati- 



24 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

fying to me to have done something for him, when 
afterwards, means were in my power/' 

Soon after her arrival, she was once more united in 
" sweet concord," as she expressed it, to M. de Beau- 
harnais. The gloomy scenes of the past were forgot- 
ten amid the sacred joys of domestic peace, and Jose- 
phine was happy as she had been miserable — devoting 
her tact and energies to the ruUng purpose of making 
her mansion the attractive centre of felicity to her hus- 
band. But her suffering country was preparing a cup 
of deeper woe, although it could not press to her trem- 
bling Hps the poison of self-reproach. 

The poUtical elements which had long been in agi- 
tation now blackened the heavens over the exasperated 
masses of France. From the conquest wars of Louis 
XIV., which slaughtered men and absorbed money, 
followed by his profusion, and the magnificence of his 
court, the corruption of the social state, and the bur- 
dens of the poor, had rapidly increased ; while an inso- 
lent nobility and dissolute clergy rioted on resources 
wrung from the starving millions. Added to these 
facts, the American contest for Uberty had thrown 
new ideas of right and oppression, like rockets into 
a magazine, among the pillaged and discontented 
classes. 

Louis XVL was now on the throne, whom " Fate 
had selected as the expiatory victim of the faults of 
his predecessors." He was evidently a monarch of 
benevolent and honest heart, but neither brilliant nor 
heroic — irresolute, and without independence of char- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 25 

acter, he was incapable of stilling or guiding the 
storm. 

Beauharnais sympathized with the King, while he 
was imbued with republican principles and ready to 
strike for reform. Calonne, the minister of state, 
alarmed at the current deficit in the finances, which in 
one year was increased one hundred and twenty fi^ve 
millions of livres, represented the necessity of imme- 
diate and radical reform to the King, and proposed a 
convocation of the Assembly of the Notables ; which 
occurred in the spring of 1787.. Though little was 
directly accomplished, it prepared the way for convok- 
ing the States General, which the people throughout 
the kingdom now demanded in language that must be 
heard. The King yielded, and the deputies of the three 
estates assembled at Versailles, 27th of April, 1789. 
Beauharnais now appeared boldly in the revolution, 
before whose terrific might were sunk a throne and 
splendid aristocracy, while the fetters of despotism 
which bore the rust of ages, were severed like threads 
of gossamer. In this "Constitutional Assembly," he 
took his seat as representative for the nobles of Blois. 
He was conservative in his views ; opposed to those 
high privileges and feudal laws which excluded the 
noblesse from the progressive movement of the age, he 
did not enter fully into the extreme doctrines of democ- 
racy which spread like a contagion among the rising 
masses. He made speeches and introduced reports of 
conciliatory yet republican tone — committing himself 
fullv to the deepening commotion which was soon to 



26 LIFE OF JOSEPHINi:. 

become a national tragedy. The Assembly was dissolv- 
ed, September 20, 1791. By a resolution passed, the 
members were ineligible to re-election for a time, and 
the Viscount Beauharnais again entered the army. 
He was associated with La Fayette after the events of 
August 10th, 1792 ; and became a member of the 
third or National Convention, of which he was twice 
chosen president. A Girondist in politics, he was hu- 
mane in action, and earnestly desired the safety of the 
King, whose doom he might delay, but could not 
change ; for his blood must be poured like oil on the 
angry billows it would fail to calm. While Jose- 
phine's husband was thus engaged in reform, her 
brother-in-law, the Marquis de Beauharnais, was equal- 
ly devoted to royalty, and a major-general in the army 
of Conde. But in vain were his efforts — Louis was 
beheaded, and the sanguinary struggle went forward. 
The Viscount was appointed commander-in-chief of 
the Rhine, to defend the German frontier ; for Europe 
was fairly awake, and revolutionary nobles were 
obliged to serve as generals, in the absence of ex- 
perienced leaders, for the excited and desperate throng, 
harnessed to this car of Juggernaut, which, on puritan 
ground, was but the temple of Liberty, lifting its beau- 
tiful proportions amid a rational people, who with a 
strong and steady arm had beaten back the invader of 
human rights. 

The following despatch exhibits the generalship and 
the republicanism of Beauharnais; dropping by the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 27 

omission of the ie in the autograph, every indication 
of titled aristocracy. 



TO THE NATIONAL CONVENTION 

Head-quarters, Landau, 20th July, 1793. 

" I have to inform you, citizen representatives, that 
on the night of the 19th, I quitted the position on the 
heights of Menfield, in order to take up another nearer 
Landau ; and, at the same time, to attack the enemy 
encamped in the vicinity of that place. I directed the 
army to advance in six columns, three of which were 
destined for false attacks. The principal object was 
to obtain possession of the passes of Anweiller, and 
the heights of Frankweiller, in front of these passes ; 
and upon which the enemy lay strongly entrenched. 
Everything succeeded to my wish.^ General Arlan- 
des, with the 10th regiment of infantry, seized the pass 
of Anweiller; General Meynier, at the head of the 
67th, occupied at the same instant Alberweiller and the 
various defiles leading therefrom ; the vanguard, led on 
by Generals Landremont, Loubat, and Delmas, re- 
pulsed the enemy with loss from the heights of Frank- 
weiller, which was guarded by the emigrants and the 
free corps of Wurmser. 

" General Gilot, making a sortie with three thousand 
of the brave garrison of Landau, in order to occupy 
the enemy's attention at a point where his line rested 
upon a wood, proved successful in that quarter. The 
false attacks directed by General Ferriere, and those 
ol the brigades of Generals Lafarelle and Mequillet, 



28 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

on the respective points of the hostile line, occasioned 
a diversion highly favorable to the main attack, by 
causing the evacuation of the villages of Betheim, 
Kintelsheim, and Ottersheim. Everywhere the enemies 
of the republic have been driven back with loss, and 
have left, contrary to their practice, the field covered 
with their dead and wounded. We made some prison- 
ers, and have captured several redoubts, without can- 
non, it is true, but in which our brave soldiers found 
bread, great coats, and supplies of various kinds. 

" This action, so fortunate in its results, since the 
troops of the republic have successfully effected what 
I had proposed, gives anticipation of still more impor- 
tant advantages. My communications wdth the army 
of Moselle have meanwhile been established by the 
county of Deuxponts ; and the courage of the repub- 
licans composing the army of the Rhine promises to 
become more and more worthy of national confidence, 
by fulfilling those engagements which that army, by its 
situation and force, and through the interests of the 
important city now besieged, had contracted with the 
country. I am yet unable to speak in detail of those 
individual achievements which merit the attention of 
the representatives of the people, and in a free state 
call for an expression of national gratitude ; but my 
next letter will contain the necessary particulars. 

" I request you again to accept from all the repub- 
icans of the army of the Rhine, the homage of fidelity 
to the republic, one and indivisible, of their attachment 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 29 

to the constitution, and of their gratitude to the esti- 
mable legislature to whom that constitution is owing. 
" The Commander-in-chief 

" of the Army of the Rhine, 

" Alexander Beauharnais." 

This was his last effort for his country — a new chap- 
ter is opened in the bloody annals of this period, ano 
in the history of the noble De Beauharnais. 



CHAPTER IL 

FALL OF THE GIRONDK. — BEAUHARNAIS ARRESTED AND IMPRISONED. — 

LETTER OF JOSEPHINE TO HER AUNT. FRIENDS FORSAKE HER. COE- 

RESrONDENCE WITH BEAUHARNAIS. LEVITT IN VIEW OF DEATH, AND 

INFIDELITY DURING THE REIGN OF TERROR. .IOSEPHINe's KINDNESS TO 

THE SUFFERING. EXAMINATION OF BEAUHARNAIS. LOUIS OBTAINS AN 

INTERVIEAV FOR BEAUHARNAIS WITH HIS FAMILY. JOSEPHINe's DE- 
SCRIPTION OF THE SCENE. PARENTAL INFLUENCE. BEAUHARNAIS BE- 
TRAYED. HIS DANGER INCREASED BY NEW EVENTS. CHARGE OF CON 

6PIRA0Y. — EUGENE AND HORTENSE EXAMINED. JOSEPHINE's ACCOUNT OF 

THE TRANSACTION. AGAIN VISITS THE LUXEMBOURG. SCENES IN PRISON. 

LETTERS. ROBESPIERRE. 

During the progress of the Revolution, a formida- 
ble club had arisen, called Jacobins, from a suppressed 
cloister of that name, in which the deputies from Bre- 
tagne that composed it, held their sessions. In this 
society, enthusiasm at first well directed, passed into 
reckless ambition and lawless passion — Marat, Danton, 
and Robespierre, were the fit leaders of this wild and 
reigning faction. Opposed to the extreme measures 
and furious zeal of the Jacobins, was the judicious, 
earnest spirit of the Girondists, who received their title 
from the department of Gironde, which had furnished 
the most splendid minds that shone in their debates, 
and gave direction to the patriotic ardor of freemen. 

But after the execution of Louis, no barrier was left 
to check the maddened populace, and a revolutionary 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSrE. dl 

tribunal was established, whose decisions were filial, 
while the property of the doomed was absorbed by the 
state. The Jacobins, no longer feared the political 
power of the Gironde, whose moderation they hated, 
and their vengeance fell unsparingly on this noble 
party, which in May, 1793, fell in the embrace of the 
blind and many-armed Briareus, whose locks were 
knotted with the best blood of France, and whose 
strokes slaughtered alike the innocent and the guilty. 
The proscribed sought refuge in concealment and 
flight. But Beauharnais, conscious of integrity, trust- 
ed with mistaken confidence in the magnanimity of 
desperate men who now raved hke maniacs, amid the 
desolation and wailing of a kingdom. He was arrest- 
ed by the heartless servitors of Robespierre, and hur- 
ried away to the prisons of the Luxembourg. No bet- 
ter account of the whole tran^ction, in which ruflian- 
ism triumphed over virtue, and might over right, with- 
out the ground of accusation, can be given than bj 
quoting the following extract from the letter of Jose- 
phine to her aunt, residing in the vicinity of Fontaine- 
bleau : — 

JOSEPHINE TO MADAM FANNY BEAUHARNAIS. 

" Ah, my dear aunt, compassionate — console — coun- 
sel me. Alexander is arrested; while I write he is 
led away to the Luxembourg! 

" Two days ago, a man of ill-omened aspect was 
seen prowling around our house. Yesterday about 



22 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

three o'clock, the porter was interrogated whether citi- 
zen Beauharnais had returned from St. Germain. Now, 
you know, my aunt, that my husband has not been at 
St. Germain since the month of May. You were of 
the party, and may recollect that Cubieres read to us 
some verses on the pavilion of Luciennes. The same 
inquisitor reappeared in the evening, accompanied by 
an old man of huge stature, morose, and rude, who put 
several questions to the porter. ' You are sure it is 
Beauharnais the Viscount ?' ' Ci-devant vicounte,' re- 
plied our servant. * The same who formerly presided 
in the assembly ?' ' I believe so.' ' And who is a gen- 
eral officer ?' ' The same sir,' said the porter. ' Sir !' 
sharply interrupted the inquirer, and addressing his 
companion, who had said nothing, ' you see the cask 
always smells the herring.' Upon this they disap- 
peared. 

" To-day, about eight in the morning, I was told 
some one wished to speak with me. This was a young 
man, of gentle and decent appearance : he carried a 
leather bag in which were several pair of shoes. * Cit^i- 
zen/ said the man to me, 'I understand you want 
socks of plum-gray ?' I looked at my woman, Victo- 
rine, who was present, but she comprehended as little 
of this question as I did. The young man seemed 
painfully disconcerted ; he kept turning a shoe in his 
hand, and fixed upon me a mournful look. At length, 
approaching close, he said in an undertone, ' I have 
something to impart to you, madam.' His voice, his 
looks, and a *isigh which half escaped him, caused me 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 33 

some emotion. ' Explain yourself/ I replied eagerly, 
*my servant is faithful.' 'Ah,' exclaimed he, as if in- 
voluntarily, ' my life is at stake in this matter.' ] 
arose instantly, and dismissed Victorine with a mes 
sage to call my husband. 

" * Madam,' said the young tradesman, when we 
were alone, ' there is not a moment to lose, if you 
would save M. de Beauharnais. The revolutionary 
committee last night passed a resolution to have him 
arrested, and at this very moment the warrant is 
making out.' I felt as if ready to swoon away. ' How 
know you this ?' demanded I, trembling violently. ' I 
am one of the committee,' said he, casting down his 
eyes ; ' and being a shoemaker, I thought these shoes 
would afford me a reasonable pretext for advertising 
you, madam.' I could have embraced the good young 
man. He perceived that I wept, and I believe tears 
stood in his own eyes. At this moment Alexander en- 
tered ; I threw myself into his arms. ' You see my 
husband,' said I to the shoemaker. ' I have the honor 
of knowing him,' was the reply. 

" Your nephew, learning the service which we had 
received, wished to reward him on the spot. This of- 
fer was declined in a manner which augmented our es- 
teem. Alexander held out his hand, which the young 
man took with respect, but without embarrassment. 
Spite of our solicitations, Alexander refused to flee. 
' With what can they charge me ?' asked he ; ' I love 
iberty ; I have borne arms for the Revolution ; and 
had that depended upon me, the termination would 



34 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

have been in favor of the people/ ' But you are a 
noble/ answered the young man, ' and that is a crime 
in the eyes of revolutionists, — it is an irreparable mis- 
fortune/ ' Which they can charge as a crime,' added 
I ; * and moreover, they accuse you of having been one 
\n the Constitutional Assembly/ ' My friend,' replied 
A.lexander with a noble expression and firm tone, ' such 
fS my most honorable title to glory — the only claim, in 
line, which I prefer. Who would not be proud of hav- 
ing proclaimed the rights of the nation, the fall of des- 
potism, and the reign of the laws ?' ' What laws !' ex- 
claimed I : ' it is in blood they are written/ ' Madam,' 
said the young man, with an accent such as he had not 
yet employed, ' when the tree of liberty is planted in 
an unfriendly soil, it must be watered with the blood 
of its enemies/ Beauharnais and I looked at each 
other ; in the young man, whom nature had constitut- 
ed with so much feeling, we recognized the revolution- 
ist whom the new principles had been able to render 
cruel. 

" Meanwhile, time elapsed ; he took his leave of us, 
repeating to my husband, ' Within an hour it will no 
longer be possible to withdraw yourself from search. 
I wished to save, because I believe you innocent ; such 
was my duty to humanity ; but if I am commanded to 
arrest you, — pardon me ; I shall do my duty, and you 
will acknowledge the patriot. In you I have ever be- 
held an honorable man — a noble and generous heart ; 
.t is impossible, therefore, that you should not also be a 
good citizen.' 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



35 



" When our visitor had departed, * Such,' said Alex- 
ander to me, * are the prejudices with which our youth 
are poisoned. The blood of the nobles, of those even 
the most devoted to the new ideas, must nourish liberty, 
if these new men of the Revolution were only cruel 
and turbulent, this sanguinary thirst, this despotic rage, 
would pass away ; but they are systematic, and Robes 
pierre has reduced revolutionary action into a doc- 
trine. The movement will cease only when its ene- 
mies, real or presumed, are annihilated, or when its 
author shall be no more. But this is an ordeal which 
must in the end strengthen liberty ; she will ferment 
and work herself clear in blood.' ' You make me 
shudder,' said I to Alexander ; ' can you speak this and 
not flee ?' * Whither flee ?' answered my husband : 
*is there a vault, a garret, a hiding-place, into which 
the eye of the tyrant does not penetrate ? Do you re- 
flect that he sees with the eye of forty thousand com- 
mittees animated by like dispositions and strong in his 
will ? The torrent rolls along, and the people throwing 
themselves into it, augment its force. We must yield ; 
if 1 be condemned, how escape ? if I be not, free or in 
prison, I have nothing to fear.' My tears, my en- 
treaties were vain. At a quarter before twelve, three 
members of the revolutionary committee made their 
appearance, and our house was filled with armed men. 

" Think you my young cordwainer formed one in 

this band ? You are not deceived, and his functions 

there were painful to me. I confess, however, I beheld 

him exercise these with a sort of satisfaction. He it 
3 B* 



iai^. 



36 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 

was who signified to Alexander the order placing him 
under arrest, which he did with equal urbanity and 
firmness. In the midst of a crisis so grievous to me, I 
could not help observing in this young man a tone of 
authority and decency which placed him in striking 
contrast with his two colleagues. One of these, the 
same old inquisitor who the night previously had made 
it his business to inquire concerning the presence and 
occupation of my husband, was once a planter in Mar- 
tinico, and who, despite of equality, has never beheld 
in the human species but two classes, — masters and 
slaves. His present opinion is, that the Revolution 
will be brought to a happy conclusion only when its 
agents shall have reduced all its enemies to the. condi- 
tion of the negroes of Senegal when exported into 
America ; and to accomplish this end, he demands that 
the whole race of priests, nobles, proprietors, philos- 
ophers, and, in short, all the aristocratic classes, be 
despatched to St. Domingo, there to replace the caste 
of the blacks, suppressed by the Revolution. ' Thus,' 
added the ferocious wretch, addressing his words to 
me with a sinister glance directed from his sunken 
eyes, * thus the true republicans secure the grand moral 
triumph, by measures of profound and elevated policy !' 
His third compeer, vulgar and brutal, busied himself in 
taking, in a blustering way, an inventory of the prin- 
cipal pieces of furniture and papers. From these latter 
he made a selection, collecting the pieces into a parcel, 
which was sealed and forwarded to the committee. 
The choice chiefly included reports and discor-rses 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 37 

pronounced by Alexander in the Constitutional Assem- 
bly. This meeting, held in horror by the revolution^ 
ists, is not less odious to the aristocrats of all classes 
and shades. Does not this prove that that assembly 
had resolved all the problems of the Revolution, and, 
as respects liberty, had founded all the necessary 
establishments ? From the regime of 1780, it had 
taken away all means ; from that of 1793, it removed 
all hope. Alexander has often repeated to me, that to 
neither there remained any chance of rising, save by 
violence and crime. Ah! why did he foresee so justly, 

« 

and why should he, to the title of a prophet, perhaps 
add that of a martyr ?" 

De Beauharnais was a prisoner, and Josephine a 
lonely mother. She learned in her calamity, that 
saddest lesson of life, the frailty of friendship, which 
disappears, too often, with the first breath of the rising 
storm. She complains touchingly of this abandon- 
ment by those who frequented her mansion in brighter 
days, in a letter to a friend, and turns with mournful 
pleasure to the messages that reach her from the cell 
of her calm and even cheerful husband. 

" Think of my house solitary, myself more solitary 
— more forsaken still. In the course of five days, since 
he was taken from me, all his friends have disappeared, 
one by one. At this moment when I sit down to write 
it is six o'clock in the evening, and nobody has come 
here. Nobody! I am wrong; my excellent young 
man does not stand aloof ; he comes twice or thrice in 
the day with news from Luxembourg. Provided his 



38 LIt'E OF JOSEPHIlSrE. 

duty be not compromised, he cares little about exposing 
his person ; the pestilence of misfortune does not keep 
him at a distance. Alexander confides to him those 
letters which he desires I only should read ; his jailers, 
the committee, have the first perusal of the others." j 

There is a quiet raillerie in his letters, which illus- 
trates the unconquerable buoyancy of the national 
character, as will be seen in the subjoined communi 
cation. 



VISCOUNT DE BEAUHARNAIS TO .JOSEPHINE. 

« Lo ! pauvre petite, you are still unreasonable, and 
I must console you ? That, however, I can easily do ; 
for even here is the abode of peace when the con- 
science is tranquil, and where one can cultivate for 
one's self and others all the benevolent sentiments of 
the heart, all the best qualities of the spirit, all the gen 
tie affections of our nature. I should be troubled about 
our separation, were it to be long; but I am a soldier; 
and at a distance from you, my sweet Josephine, re- 
moved from our dear children, I bethink myself of war , 
in truth, a slight misadventure is a campaign against 
misfortune. Ah ! if you knew how we learn to com- 
bat our mischance here, you would blush for having 
been afflicted. Every captive— now this is literally 
the case— leaves his sorrows at the grated entrance, 
and shows within only good-humor and serenity. We 
have transported to the Luxembourg the entire of so- 
ciety, excepting politics ; thus, you will grant me that 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 39 

we have left the thorns in order to gather the roses. 
We have here charming women, who are neither 
prudes nor coquettes ; old men, who neither carp nor 
moralize, and who demean themselves kindly ; men of 
mature age, who are not projectors ; young men, al- 
most reasonable ; and artists, well bred, sober, without 
pride, amuse us by a number of pleasant facts, and en- 
tertaining anecdotes ; and, what will astonish you more 
than all the rest, we have monied men, become as po- 
lite and obliging as they were generally vulgar and im- 
pertinent. We have here, then, all that is best, always 
excepting my Josephine and our dear children. Oh ! 
the choice — the good — the best, compose that cherish- 
ed trio. I ought likewise to except our good friend 
ITevil ; the only fault in him is his notion of relation- 
ship to Brutus. As to his title of committee man, I 
have no reproach to make on that score ; I find it too 
much in my favox. He is the messenger, my beloved 
friend, who will convey to you this letter, in which I 
enclose one thousand kisses, until such time as I shall 
be able more substantially to deliver them myself, 
and without counting." 

Such were the consolations of infidelity during the 
Reign of Terror. Men listened to the sentence of ex- 
ecution with a smile of indifference, made mirth at 
their hastening departure from time, and gazed with 
jesting lips upon the lifted blade of the guillotine, wet 
with the blood of their comrades ; and called it the sub- 
lime decision of minds which were above the shadows 
of superstition, and in the clear serene of reason' 






40 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Their courage was madness, and their joy the levity 
of idiotic folly. How strangely in this period of law- 
lessness and gigantic crime, did man affect to efface 
every trace of the Divine image from his soul — hush 
the forebodings of future retribution — and blot oiit that 
instinctive desire, to which Von Rotteck finely alludes 
in his splendid history : " Whenever men think and feel 
humanely, there Hves the idea, the presentiment at 
least, of God and immortality." Neither Beauharnais 
nor Josephine have left any record of their own re- 
ligious opinions, amid the blasphemies of this almost 
universal atheism, whose epitaph upon the tombstones 
of its murdered victims was, "Death is an eternal 
sleep !" 

Leaving for a while the frightful scenes of Paris, 
Josephine made every exertion to alleviate the miseries 
of the suffering poor she met in the way, or followed 
to their kennels in the suburbs of the cities. Widows 
and orphans were famishing in groups, while the cry 
for bread was drowned only by that for blood. Many 
of these homeless wretches blessed the hand of Joseph- 
ine, and lived to honor gratefully as Queen her whom 
they loved as a ministering angel when ready to perish. I 
Confident of her husband's release, she cheerfully 
waited for the event. In the mean time, De Beauhar- 
nais was examined before a revolutionary committee — 
a tribunal which in its original institution was styled, 
the " Committee of Public Salvation f at which Robes- 
pierre, after he had rid himself of Danton, who shared 
the power, presided in " bloody omnipotence," and like 



I 



I 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIIO:. 41 

Nero, gloried in his homicidal pastime, till he drained 
the wine-cup of unmingled- depravity, and died in his 
hideous intoxication. 

The ordeal was so favorable to the integrity of the 
Viscount, that Josephine was encouraged in hope, and 
sent the following account of the affair to Madam 
Fanny de Beauharnais, which will be read with in- 
terest, both as a record of scenes in which justice was 
a mockery, and an index of characters memorable for 
cruelties inflicted in the name of liberty, that make the 
spirit recoil from the contemplation of history. 

" Alexander has been examined to-day, and to-mor- 
row I shall have permission to visit him. The presi- 
dent of the committee is a good enough man, but void 
of all energy : whom I know not how many quintals 
of fat deprive of movement, ideas, and almost of speech 
With the best intentions in the world, he has less au- 
thority than the meanest clerk in his office. He arrives 
late, gets to his chair, puffing and blowing, falls down 
heavily, and, when at length he is seated, remains a 
quarter of an hour without speaking. Meanwhile a 
secretary reads reports which he does not hear, though 
affecting to listen ; sometimes he falls asleep during the 
reading, a circumstance which prevents not his awak- 
ing just in time to sign what he has neither heard nor 
understood. As to the examinations which he com- 
mences, and which all of his colleagues continue, some 
are atrocious, a great number ridiculous, and all more 
or less curious. What, indeed, can be more remarka- 
ble than 10 behold the highest orders interrogated be- 



42 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

fore those who, notwithstanding their elevation, are but 
the dregs of society ? My dear aunt, when I speak 
thus, understand me to make no reference to birth, for- 
tune, or privileges ; but to sentiment, conduct, and 
principles. 

" Enclosed I send you an outline of my husband's 
examination, in which, as you wnll perceive, the ridicu- 
lous contends with the horrible. Such are the true 
features of our era." 

" President. — Who are you ? 

M. de Beauliarnais. — A man, and a Frenchman. 

President. — None of your gibes here ! I demand 
your name. 

M. de B — Eugene- Alexander de Beauharnais. 

A Member. — No de, if you please ; it is too aristo- 
cratic. 

M. de B. — Feudal, you would say. It is certain, a 
name without the particle would be more rational. 
The offence, if it be one, comes of time, and my an- 
cestors. 

Another Member. — Ah ! so you have got ancestors ! 
The confession is an honest one ; it is well to know as 
much. Note that^ citizens ; he has a grandfather, and 
makes no secret of it. [Here nine of the twelve mem- 
bers composing the committee fell a laughing. One of 
those who, amid the general gayety, had maintained 
an appearance of seriousness, called out, in a loud 
tone, ' Fools ! who does not know that ancestors are 
old musty parchments ? Is it this man's fault if his 
credentials have not been burned ? Citizen, I advise 



T:IFE of JOSEPHIISE. 43 

thee to bestow them here with the committee, and I 
give thee the assurance that a good bonfire shall soon 
render us an account of thine ancestors.' Here a 
ridiculous laughter took possession of the entire of the 
honorable council, and not without much difficulty 
could the fat president recall them to a sense of de- 
corum. At the same time, this explosion of hilarity 
having put him into good-humor, he politely requested 
the accused to be seated. Again he was interrupted 
by a member calling him to order, for having used the 
plural to a suspected citizen. Hereupon the uproar 
began anew more violently than ever, from the word 
Monsieur having been applied to the president by the 
member as a joke. Order once more established, m}- 
husband embraced the first moment of silence to feli- 
citate the members on l\im innocent nature of their 
discussions, and to congratulate himself in having for 
judges magistrates of such a joyous disposition.] 

President, with an important air. — Dost take our 
operations for farces ? Thou art prodigiously deceived. 
The suspected citizen is right, colleagues, in calling us 
judges; that title ought to restore us to gravity. 
Formerly, it was permitted to laugh, now we must be 
serious. 

M. de B. — Such is the distinction between the old 
and new^ regime. 

President. — Proceed we then seriously, and con- 
tinue the examination. Citizen Jarbac (to one of the 
secretaries,) be'st thou there ? (To M, de B.)—Thy 
titles and qualities ? 



44 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

M. dc B. — A French citizen, and a general in the 
service of the repubhc. j|| 

A Memher. — President, he does not declare all ; he 
was formerly a — 

Another Memher. — A prince or a baron at least. 

M. de B., smiling. — Only a vicomte, if so please 
you, and quite enough, too. 

President. — Enough ! it is a great deal too much : 
so you confess being a noble. 

M. de B. — I confess that some men so call me, and 
so, for some time, 1 believed, under the reign of igno- 
rance, habit, and prejudice. 

President. — Acknowledge also that you are not 
yet entirely disabused. 

M. de B. — The obstinacy of some men who persist 
in combating a chimera preserves for such things a 
sort of reality. As for myself, I have long regarded 
the illusion as dissipated. Reason had taught me that 
there could exist no distinctions save those which re- 
sult from virtue, talent, or service ; a sound policy has 
since demonstrated to me that there ought to exist 
none other. 

Citizen Nevil. — That I call reasoning from prin- 
ciple. 

President. — Without denying the contjequences, 
whence has the accused derived these principles? 
From the Constitutional Assembly ? 

M. de B. — I consider it an honor to have been a 
member of that Assembly. 

President. — Did you not ever preside there ? 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 46 

M, de B. — Yes, citizen ; and at an ever-momorablo 
era. 

President. — That was after the flight of the tyrant? 

M. dc B. — That was on the occasion of the journey 
of Louis XVI. to Varennes, and on his return. 

Member. — For a bet, the citizen does not consider 
Lewis Capet to have been a tyrant. 

M. de B. — History will explain, and posterity will 
pronounce. 

Citizen Nevil. — The question here is, not what citi- 
zen Beauharnais thinks, but what he has done. 

President. — Just — most just : see we then what 
citizen Beauharnais has done. 

M. de B. — Nothing ; and that in a distempered time, 
I conceive to be the best of all proceedings. 

President. — Thus you declare for no party ? 

M. de B. — No, if by party you mean factions which 
hate each other, rend the State, and impede the reign 
of the laws, and the strengthening of the republic ; but 
yes — if by party you understand the immense majority 
of the French people who desire independence and 
liberty : of that party am L 

A Member. — It remains to be known through what 
means of adherence -^ 

M. de B. — I should prefer, in order to persuade, the 
means employed by reason, to convince those of sen- 
timent, against anarchy, by turns the cause and the 
effect of factions : I nevertheless believe it is not forbid- 
den to employ force. But I require that it be used so 
as not to be abused ; that men have recourse to it 



46 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

rarely, and that they yield to humanity whatever they 
can take from severity without compromising the 
safety of the State. 

A Member, (it was the old wretch charged with the 
arrest of my husband.) — Humanity ! humanity ! In 
certain mouths, such language is suspected. 

M. de B. — And ought to be so, if it signify pity for 
wilful criminals ; but it is respectable when invoked 
in favor of inexperience and error. 

A Member. — Such is the tone held by all mode- 
rates. 

M. de B. — Moderation is the daughter of reason, 
and the mother of power ; why should I be violent 
and agitated, if, in a sound state of mind, I feel my 
self vigorous through calmness, and powerful b}^ wis- 
dom ? 

Nevil. — I assure you, citizens, that neither Rous- 
seau, nor Mably, nor Montesquieu ever wrote any- 
thing more sensible. 

A Member. — Who are these people ? do they belong 
to the section ? 

Another Member. — Don't you see they are Feuillans ? 
All that has the smack of moderatism, and is not 
worth a . 

President. — You are all wrong, citizens ; these are 
authors of the reign of Louis XIV., and you may see 
their tragedies played every night at the Theatre 
Franqais." 

" Here a new uproar ensued, some defending, others 
impugning, these novel discoveries in literary history. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 47 

My husband would have smiled in derision, had he 
not sighed to think in whose hands the fate of his 
fellow-citizens had thus been placed. Nevil, by labor- 
ing to bring back the debate to its proper object, 
endeavored to terminate a sitting equally painful and 
ludicrous. After some more absurd and irrelevant 
interrogatories, the president decided for the provisional 
detention of Alexander. ' Time will thus be afforded/ 
so concluded his address, with revolutionary fore- 
thought, ' for convicting you ; and you, citizen, will 
have leisure for your defence. If you love your 
country, you can serve it as well by your resignation 
as by your activity ; and if liberty be dear to you, it 
will become much more so in a prison. Thereupon, I 
remit you, not as culpable — God forbid ! but as one 
who may become guilty. You will be inscribed upon 
the registers of the Luxembourg merely with this 
favorable remark : committed of being suspected !' " 

Mercy was an attribute unknown except in fitful, 
momentary manifestations, with those who sat in the 
ludgment-seat during this frightful period. Louis of 
the Lower Rhine, who was a companion in crime and 
rank with Robespierre, yielded to the entreaty of 
Beauharnais, and consented to a meeting of his family 
with him in prison. She received the intelligence 
with a bounding and hopeful heart, as the dawn of 
returning joy to her desolate dwelling, and hastened, 
with Eugene and Hortense, to embrace the captive. 
Josephine has feelingly and most beautifully described 



48 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the scene which followed, in a letter to her sympathiz- 
ing aunt. 

" This has been a day at once very delightful, and 
very painful. My husband having desired to see us, I 
resolved, in order to spare their young feelings, to send 
the children first, and Nevil took charge of them for 
this purpose. They had for some time been told that 
their father, being sick, was under the care of a famous 
physician, who, on account of the salubrity of the air, 
and the spacious buildings, resided in the Luxembourg. 
The first interview passed over very well ; only Hor- 
tense remarked that papa's apartments were extremely 
small, and the patients very numerous. At the time 1 
arrived they had left their father, a kind-hearted turn 
key, gained by Nevil, having taken the precaution to 
keep them removed. They had gone to visit in the 
neighboring cells, whose inmates were touched by their 
youth, their situation, and their ingenuousness. I 
dreaded the sight of our mutual emotion : our interview 
took place in their absence. Alexander, who supports 
his captivity with courage, showed himself unable to 
bear up against my tears. Recovering myself at 
length, and alarmed to see him so greatly moved, 1 
constrained my own sorrow, and endeavored in turn to 
soothe his. Our children now made their appearance. 
This brought on a new crisis, the more painful that we 
felt its cause must be dissembled. 

• Hortense, who is sincerity itself, was for long de- 
ceived, and in all the tenderness of. an affectionate 
heart, wished to persuade us that we acted wrong in 



< 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 49 

afflicting ourselves, since papa's illness was not danger- 
ous. All this while poor Hortense exhibited that light 
air of incredulous hesitation which you know becomes 
her so well. ' Do you believe that papa is ill T said she 
to her brother; 'if so, at least, it is not the sickness 
which the doctors cure.' ' What do you mean, my 
dear girl,' asked I ; * can you suppose that papa and 1 
would contrive between us to deceive you ?' ' Pardon, 
mamma, but I do think so.' * Oh ! sister,' eagerly 
interrupted Eugene, * that is a very singular speech of 
yours !' ' On the contrary,' replied she, ' it is quite 
simple and natural.' ' How, miss ?' said I, in my turn, 
affecting severity. * Unquestionably,' continued the 
little sly one, 'good parents are permitted to deceive 
their children when they wish to spare them uneasi- 
ness; is it jiot so, mamma?' At these words, she 
threw herself upon my bosom, and, putting one arm 
around her father's neck, drew him gently towards us. 
A smile shone through her tears ; and Eugene, min- 
gling his caresses in this domestic scene, rendered the 
whole truly affecting. Amiable and gentle child, he 
shows as much singleness of heart as his sister displays 
penetration and spirit. Both have hitherto formed our 
joy : why should it be, that, at this crisis, they are the 
cause of our most lively disquietudes, and occasion to 
me — to me personally, inexpressible uneasiness, which 
I am unable to subdue, and can with difficulty combat; 
for myself I have no fear ; but for them — for Alexan- 
der, I become a very coward. 

" In the course of the visits which my children had 



50 JAFK OF JOSEFHII^fE. 

made, and from the conversations my daughter had 
collected, and overheard, she had divined that her 
father v\ras a prisoner. We nov\^ acknowledged what 
it was no longer possible to conceal. ' And the rea- 
son ?' demanded Hortense. Even her brother, less 
timid than usual, would know the motive for such 
severity. It would have been very difficult to satisfy 
them. Strange abuse of power, abused and despicable 
excess of tyranny, which a child has judgment to 
condemn, which all ought to possess the right to 
punish, and yet of which men dare not complain ! 

" ' Oh,' cried Hortense, ' when we are able, we will 
punish your accusers.' ' Hush, my child,' said her 
father, ' were you to be overheard speaking thus, I 
should be ruined, as well as yourself and your mother ; 
while we would not then enjoy the consolation of 
being presented altogether unjustly.' * Have you not 
often explained to us,' remarked Eugene, * that it is 
lawful to resist oppression ?' * I repeat the same senti- 
ment once more,' replied my husband ; ' but prudence 
ought to accompany resistance ; and he who would 
overcome tyranny, must be careful not to put the 
tyrant on his guard.' 

" By degrees the conversation assumed a less serious 
turn. We forgot the present misfortune to give our- 
selves up to soft remembrances and future plans. You 
will readily conceive that in these latter you were far 
from being overlooked. 

" ' I wish every possible happiness to my aunt,' said 
Alexander, laughing : ' nevertheless as the Nine are 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 51 

said never to be so interesting as when they are afflict- 
ed, I would beseech just a few days' captivity for my 
aunt's nurse ; a fine elegy would doubtless be the re- 
sult, and the glory of the poetess, by immortalizing her 
prison would prove ample consolation for having in- 
habited one.' What say you to the wish, my deai 
aunt?" 

While that parental training developed in this sim- 
ple narrative, which in any emergency finds falsehood 
an auxiliary, may be as questionable as the counsel of 
the French nobleman to his wife, urging the neces- 
sity of teaching his sons fashionable oaths as a pre- 
ventive to lying ; Josephine evidently imparted ele- 
vated sentiments to her children, which were enforced 
by their unfortunate father, and sealed with his 
blood. 

The very expressions of patriotism, and hostility to 
despotism, which were exchanged in this domestic 
group, were overheard by the spies of the Convention, 
and reported to the " man-slayer," who guided its " in- 
fernal machinery." The severities which marked the 
treatment of prisoners were increased — closer confine- 
ment required, and life soon lavished in atonement 
for the kindness of delay. In another communication 
to her relative, Josephine writes : — ■ 

" I must now, my esteemed aunt, collect all my forti- 
tude to inform you of the catastrophe which has just 
befallen us ; you will need the whole of yours to sus- 
tain the recital. The observations made by my hus- 
band to his children, and which I transmitted, will not 
4 C 



52 LIFE OF JOSEPHIIO:. 

have escaped you. ' It is permitted/ such were his 
words to Eugene, ' it is even a duty to resist oppres- 
sion ; but prudence ought to direct force, and he who 
would subvert or subdue tyranny must beware of dis- 
closing his designs.' To explain to you how these 
words, which we conceived were heard by ourselves 
alone, reached the ears of spies, would be difficult for 
me ; and now that I reflect upon the circumstance, the 
disclosure appears still more mysterious. At first we 
suspected Nevil ; but you will conceive with what in- 
dignation against ourselves we repelled a suspicion 
which, for the moment, forced itself upon our alarmed 
fancy. One of the saddest miseries of adversity is, 
that it renders men unjust,- awakening doubts of the 
sincerity of friendship, so rarely given to misfortune. 
In thinking the best of the conduct of that excellent 
young man 1 did well ; for it is still through his means 
that I am able to transmit you the following details : — 
I am thus completely ignorant by whom or in what 
manner we have been betrayed. 

" As soon as the Revolutionary Committee had 
knowledge of my poor Alexander's remark, they inter- 
cepted all communication between him and the other 
prisoners ; and, which has thrown us into greater con- 
sternation still, between him and his family. On the 
morrow he was shut up in his chamber, which fortu- f 
nately opens upon a small corridor communicating with 
a second apartment, at present unoccupied, an arrange- 
ment which, hitherto unobserved, triples the space foi 
exercise. Two days after, the doors were thrown open, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. bZ 

and he received the very unexpected visit of a mem- 
ber of the Committee of General Safety. The visitor 
w^as Vadier, his colleague in the Constitutional Assem- 
bly, a gray-headed, suspicious ruffian, v^ho follows the 
dictates of habitual misanthropy, and with whom sus- 
picions are equivalent to proofs. In the tone assumed 
with my husband, the latter instantly recognized pre- 
judice and personal hatred, and shrunk from penetrat 
ing farther. As for myself, the bare idea causes me to 
shudder, and were I to dwell upon the thought for a 
moment, I feel that terror would freeze my heart. 

" ' Without inquiring,' answered Alexander, * by 
what means you have discovered my thoughts, I am 
very far from disavowing the maxim which you repeat 
after me, or the principles you attribute to me. Is not 
the entire theory of the Revolution comprehended in 
these ideas ? do they not teach a doctrine which its 
friends have reduced to practice ? are not these princi- 
ples yours also ?' ' All that I grant,' replied Vadier ; 
'but times, places, persons, change all; and a truth of 
this nature, admirable as it may be in speculation, be- 
comes -a dagger when men know not how to use it ; it 
is a two-edged weapon which we have done well in di- 
recting against the enemies of liberty : but if it so hap- 
pen that those who have been wounded, though not 
prostrated, essay to turn it against the defenders of 
freedom, if, in such a retrograde and criminal move- 
ment, they were guided by one of those arms which 
had combated them, and which in protecting them to- 
day, desired to avenge their wounds of the past, say 



54 LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSfE, 

would such a one be guiltless ? would the intentions he 
obeyed be pure ? or, could too great severity be exer- 
cised to prevent the effect rather than have to punish 
the consequences ?' ' In these dangerous and forced de- 
ductions/ answered M. de B., ' I recognize the doctrine 
of your master. Under deceitful hypotheses you may 
base at will the scaffolding of any proposition, however 
absurd ; and arguing from the possible to the positive, 
you deliver the innocent to punishment, as the means 
of preventing them from guilt/ ' Whoever is suspect- 
ed,' was the atrocious reply, 'deserves "suspicion.' 

* Speak more honestly at once,' replied your nephew : 
' whoever is innocent soon falls under suspicion ; and, 
once suspected, he perishes ; if it be imagined that his 
innocence may waver, you quickly punish him as crim- 
mal.' * You press the consequences rather from feeling 
than reason,' returned Vadier ; * we designate and treat 
as criminal, him only who impedes or corrupts the 
principles of the Revolution. Would you have spoken 
out had not the anti-revolutionary doctrines, in de- 
spite of us, and even without our knowledge, refuted 
you ? Woe to the guilty wbo compromise themselves.' 

* Woe, rather,' cried my husband, ' woe to those tyrants 
who explain, or rather who mystify, by an insidious 
and crafty sophistry, their system of manslaughter ! we 
may easily put aside the thrust which is aimed at us 
in honest hostility ; and, as the President du Harley re- 
marks, a mighty space interposes between the heart of 
the good man and the poniard of the miscreant. But 
how avoid the stab made in darkness ? there is no 



LIFE OF JOSKl'MINE. oo 

remedy ; we must be silent and bare the throat.' At 
these words, which I much blame, the old President of 
the General Safety Committee left the prison ; and 
Nevil, who had been listening in the corridor, imagined 
he remarked in his naturally stern countenance an in- 
describable expression of the most sinister import. I 
shall keep you daily informed of the consequences of 
this atoiir, which fills me with inexpressible alarm." 

The horizon now blackened around De Beauharnais, 
and his hunted family — the fatal bolt was aimed with 
relentless and murderous decision of purpose at another 
warm and manly heart, whose ebbing current would 
honor the soil it baptized, and like that of the first mar- 
tyr, cry to Heaven against 

" Man's inhumanity to man ;" 

whether in the sceptred homicide, or as now, a fla- 
gitious mob, apotheosizing liberty while trampling on 
her sacred form. The fearful authority of Robespierre 
was, at this stage of revolutionary progress, shaken, and 
he entered upon the desperate struggle to regain his 
vanishing and terrible greatness. The reaction against 
the monster of crime, was encouraged by Callbt d'Her- 
bois, TaUien, Barras, and others, who figured as chiefs 
in the events which preceded the 27th July, 1794 ; 
and the vigilance and activity of Robespierre's emis- 
saries proportionally increased. 

When, therefore, a pretext was found to excite the 
popular feeling more intensely against the "captive 
aristocracy," so that the trembling demon of the fierce 



56 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

commotion, and his subordinate spirits, might dispose 
of their foes with the guillotine, it was improved with 
cowardly haste. 

Soon after the interesting scene in the cell of Beau- 
liarnais, the revolutionary newspapers came out with 
flaming editorials upon the " grand conspiracy discov- 
ered in the house of seclusion at the Luxembourg ;" 
and with the assurance that the argus-eyed adminis- 
tration would penetrate the terrible plot, threatened 
the summary punishment, which too quickly followed. 

Nevil, the youth who in disguise attempted to save 
de Beauharnais, exhibiting a singular attachment to 
the unfortunate general he aided officially to imprison, 
was now arrested, and conveyed with inquisitorial 
secrecy to his place of confinement. Then the " Com- 
mittee" entered the sanctuary of home, endeavoring to 
extort from childhood, evidence of parental guilt. The 
description as given by Josephine, makes the con- 
templative reader pause with painful emotions over the 
public and domestic tragedies of a " Republic," which 
poured the crimson tide of human life in sluices along 
the streets — and instead of the Genius of Liberty, was 
guarded by atheistical bacchanals, grasping the drip- 
ping blade of the assassin. 

JOSEPHINE TO MADAM FANNY DE BEAUHARNAIS. 

" Will you believe it, my dear aunt ? My children 
have just undergone a long and minute examination ! 
That wretched old man, member of the Committee, 



LITE OF JOSEPHESTE. 5*7 

and whom I have repeatedly named to you, introduced 
himself into my house ; and under pretence of feeling 
interested in my husband, and of entertaining me, set 
my poor ones a talking. I confess that at first I was 
completely thrown off my guard by this stratagem; 
only I could not help wondering at the affability of 
such a personage. Innate guilt, however, soon betray- 
ed itself when the children replied in terms whence it 
was impossible to extort the least implication against 
their unfortunate parents. Thus I speedily detected 
the deceit. When he perceived I had penetrated his 
craft, he ceased to feign, and declaring that he had 
been charged with obtaining from my children infor- 
mation so much the more certain as being ingenuous, 
he proceeded to interrogate them in form. Upon this 
avowal, I was sensible of an inexpressible revulsion 
taking place within me ; I felt that I grew pale with 
affright— that I now reddened with anger — now trem- 
bled with indignation. I was on the point of expressing 
to this hoary revolutionist the loathing with which he 
inspired me, when the thought arose that I might thus 
do injury to my husband, against whom this execrable 
man shows inveterate enmity; then I repressed my re- 
sentment in silence. Upon his desiring to be left alone 
with my Httle ones, I felt again the spirit of resistance 
rising within me ; but such ferocity appeared in his 
looks that I was constrained to obey. 

"Having locked up Hortense in a closet, he com 
menced by questioning her brother. When my daugh- 
ter's turn came, oh, how I trembled on perceiving the 



58 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

length to which her examination extended ! for our in- 
quisitor had not failed to remark in the dear girl an 
acuteness and penetration far beyond her years. Af- 
ter sounding them as to our conversations, our opin- 
ions, the visits and letters which we received, and es- 
pecially on the actions which they might have wit- 
nessed, he broached the capital question, namely, the 
discourse held with their father in prison. My chil- 
dren, each in character answered excellently well, and 
spite the subtlety of the wretch, who wished to find 
guilt, the sound understanding of my son and the intel- 
ligent address of his sisier, disconcerted, if they were 
not able to confound, the knavery. What conse- 
quences will they extort from an examination such 
as truth dictates to lips that are guileless ? It can re- 
dound only to the triumph of innocence and the shame 
of its accusers : will they dare to produce it, if thence 
arise this two-fold check ? 

" Still the same silence concerning the unfortunate 
Nevil. Notwithstanding my repugnance, I have de 
cided on requesting an audience of a member of the 
Committee of General Safety, Louis, (deputy of the 
Lower Rhine,) of whom report speaks less unfavorably 
than of his colleagues. Your nephew has expressly pro- 
hibited me from seeing these men, whom he regards as 
the assassins of our country ; but he has not forbidden 
me to solicit from gratitude, and in favor of friendship. 
Had he done so, I could almost have dared to disobey 
the injunction. I iiold the ungrateful in horror, and 
certainly shall never increase their number." 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIlfE. 69 

She was successful in her application — Louis gained 
for her access to the prison-poHce, and through him to 
Prosper Sigas, whose decision completed the formalities 
of admission. The frightful disclosures which were 
made there, in the loathsome dungeons of innocence, 
reminded one of the gloomy " slave-ship," whose rayless 
hold of sullen wretches was at length opened to the 
light of day, and the groans heard, which were foi 
centuries wasted on the solitude of the ocean. She 
graphically portrays some of those horrors, whose 
gigantic sepulchre under the old order of things, was 
the ancient Bastile, swept away by the revolutionary 
storm. The letter is addressed to 

MADAM FANNY BEAUHARNAIS. 

" Louis, the deputy of the Lower Rhine, whom 1 
just saw for a moment, appeared to me not without 
some good, and I believe him not insensible. The 
accents of pity seem to find his heart not inaccessible. 
He does not repel misfortune, nor add bitterness to the 
reproaches wrung from grief; but those qualities 
precisely which recommend him to the oppressed, 
become vices and lessen his influence with the oppres- 
sors. He enjoys little credit ; and after hearing my 
petition, could do nothing therein directly, but intro- 
duced me to his colleague, who is charged with the 
police of the prisoners. The latter, with malice in his 
look, and mockery on his tongue, complimented me 
ironicallv upon the interest I expressed in Nevil's fate. 



00 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

' The cordwainer/ said the ruffian, ' is a vigorous and 
handsome youth : it is quite as it should be for him to 
be protected by a woman who is young and handsome 
also. If she now manifest sensibility, the time may 
come when he will be able to show his gratitude. As 
to the matter in hand, however, his examination being 
finished, his affair is no longer a concern of mine. 
You must therefore transport yourself into the office 
of citizen Prosper Sigas, who, if so disposed, may grant 
you the required permission. You may say that I 
recommend him to be yielding, for it is really a sin to 
keep so long separated from each other, two young 
people who only ask to be reunited.' 

"After these impertinences, to which I deigned no 
reply, the fellow gave me a card to the functionary 
whom he had just named. Oh ! as for this latter, he 
proved quite another sort of person : to my delight and 
great astonishment, I found in M. Sigas all the urbanity 
desirable in a rqan of the world, joined to that knowl- 
edge of detail which we have a right to expect in a 
public officer. He informed me, that notwithstanding 
a first examination, citizen Nevil still remained in the 
depot of the Committee of General Security. ' As it is 
supposed,' continued my informant, ' that he has dis- 
closures to make, it has been judged fit to place him 
there, that he may be forthcoming when wanted. I 
am sorry for it, first on his own account, and next on 
yours, madam, whose interest he appears so fortunate 
as to have excited. There is your permission to 
communicate with him ; you will observe that it 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIjSTE. 61 

authorizes these commiinicatioDS only in the pres- 
ence of a witness ; but this postcript which I add, 
gives the power to render the witness invisible if cir- 
cumstances permit ; or, if not, makes him blind and 
deaf.' Avow, my beloved aunt, that though now 
misplaced, it would not be easy to find a more amia- 
ble personage than M. Prosper Sigas. 

" From the officers of the Committee I descended to 
the Hotel de Brionne, under the gate of which the 
depot is situated. You will have difficulty in believing 
that neglect, or rather atrocity, could be carried so far 
as to establish this depot in a subterranean passage, 
narrow, dark, receiving through grated loopholes a 
struggling and doubtful light, and which, in close 
contact with a public sewer, has, upon the roof, the 
channels of wells constantly in use. In this damp, 
gloomy, and infected hole are to be found, by tens and 
twelves, huddled into spaces of fifteen feet square, 
captives unknown to each other, and without other bed 
than a few boards raised some thirty inches from the 
floor, spreading mutual infection from the bodies, while 
they envenom the evils of their minds by dreadful 
confidences. Here groaned Nevil, when to his great 
astonishment, he was called out, and recognized me 
with lively satisfaction. It is quite true that he has 
been examined, but less upon what concerns my 
husband than upon what passed at the Luxembourg. 
He is prepared for new trials." 

Robespierre, though a man of ordinary powers, and 
by nature a coward, besides exercising with energy 



62 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

that paralyzsd the nation, the might of brute force 
displayed tact in the management of that horrible 
enginery, which shook the kingdoms of Europe. 
When he baheld symptoms of a reaction involving the 
decline of his demoniac authority, hke a Hon crouching 
before the hunted prey he would beguile to his lair, he 
affected a lenity, against which his bitter spirit chafed 
with hidden passion, that waited only the opportunity 
to send forth its volcanic fires. He gave more latitude 
to the press, and permitted debate — apologizing with 
apparent regret for the enormities committed, while all 
the time, heads were rolling upon the scaffold, beneath 
the axe, whose fatal stroke fell like the steady beat of 
a machine for perpetual motion, until action wore our 
its iron heart. 

He began to read i"n the lurid glare of the meteor of 
his fame, which had culminated upon a sky darkened 
with the smoke of slaughter, the despairing looks of 
millions, and caught the murmur of the angry deep, 
his trident had ruled too long. His mercy was in vain, 
only as it threw a pleasant illusion upon hearts like 
Josephine's, tortured with suspense, and clinging to the 
object of affection. His cup of trembling was well 
nigh full — the corsair of the wrathful billows, was 
already reeling in the circles of the vortex awaiting it 



CHAPTER III. 

JOSEPHINE UNDECEIVED. HER ARREST. DESCRIPTION OF THE SCENE. — 

THE PRISON. HORTENSE AND EUGENE. .JOSEPHINe's COMPOSURE. HER 

KINDNESS TO THE PRISONERS. CORRESPONDENCE WITH BEArHARNAIS 

RENEWED. ROMANTIC STORY. PRISON HORRORS. BEAUHARNALs' IN- 
TEREST IN THE YOUNG MANIAC. RETURNING HOPE. LEVITY OF PRIS- 
ONERS. — Josephine's maternal character. — robkspierre's policy. 

THE interposition OF FRIENDS. JOSEPHINE's APPEAL TO SIGAS.— 

RESULT. MEETING OF BRAUHARNAIS AND JOSEPHINE. CRISIS IN DES- 
TINY. LAST HOURS OF BEAUHARNAIS. HIS EXECUTION, RELICS UNEX- 
PECTEDLY RECEIVED BY JOSEPHINE. HER DISTRESS AND DANGER. 

CHEERED BY THE PROPHECY OF EUPHEMIA. CIRCUMSTANCES OF ROBES- 

PIERRE's death. LIBERATION OF JOSEPHINE. INTEREST IN HER CHIL 

DREN. FAMINE. DOMESTIC SUFFERINCi. SURVEY OF THE REVOLUTION 

BEAUHARNAIS FAMILY TOWARDS THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1795. 

During the interlude of hope, Josephine wrote to her 
husband, breathing encouragement and the affection 
of a true woman's heart in every hne. She referred to 
a pamphlet which about this time appeared, condemn- 
ing the severity of the Committee, and intimating a 
restoration of ancient customs, written by Desmoulins, 
himself soon after a victim to the vengeance of the 
chief, who permitted him to write and live no longer 
than might subserve his designs. 

The infidelity of Robespierre also, it seems, about 
this time assumed the phase of Deism ; which she re- 
garded as indicative of slumbering humanity awaking 
to activity. But Beauharnais understood the Revolu- 



64 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tion better than his faithful wife, and discerned beneath 
a seeming tranquillity, the unsubdued elements, whose 
open war would soon again pour their fury upon the 
heads of those enrolled on the list of proscription or 
suspicion. He replied to her note of gratulation in the 
following emphatic language : — 

DE BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. 

" My poor friend, what an error is thine ! Hope de- 
ludes you ; but in the times wherein we live hope dis- 
appoints and betrays. I have read with attention the 
work of Desmoulins : it is the production of an honest 
man, but a dupe. He wrote, you say, to the dictation 
of Robespierre : it is probable ; but after having urged 
him thus far, the tyrant will sacrifice him. I know 
that determined man : he will not retreat before any 
difficulty ; and, to secure the triumph of his detestable 
system, he will even, if need be, play the part of a man 
of feeling. Robespierre, in the conviction of his pride, 
believes himself called to regenerate France; and his 
views are short-sighted, and his heart cold ; he con- 
ceives of radical regeneration only as a washing in 
blood. It is the easiest mode of reform, for the victims 
are penned, and the butcher has merely to extend his 
hand, and drag them to the slaughter-house. Some, 
however, before expiring, had raised a cry of lamenta- 
tion, and this note the credulous Camile is employed to 
repeat, in order to try conclusions with opinion. 
Whatever may be his object, it will incur opposition, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSnE. Qf^ 

which will DC wrested by the tyrant into a cause foi 
the sacrifice of new victinis. Such is the grand out- 
line of his poHcy. 

" I grieve, my dear Josephine, to destroy your heart's 
illusion ; but how can I entertain it, who have viewed 
too closely the manoeuvres of tyranny ? When we 
are unable to oppose to despotism a power capable of 
crushing it, there remains but one possibility of resist- 
ance, namely, to receive its inflictions with a virtue 
which may cover it with dishonor. Those who come 
after us will at least profit by our example, and the 
legacy of the proscribed will not be lost to humanity." 

Scarcely had Josephine perused these warnings of 
impending danger, before they proved to be the tocsin 
of a darker calamity, that brought her beneath the very 
shadow of the guillotine. She was thrown into prison, 
where entire families were pining m unpitied wretch- 
edness, a fate which she might have anticipated long 
before, but for a soul buoyant and hopeful, and full of 
that kindness which " thinketh no evil." Her disinter- 
ested devotion to her family, appears finely in the letter 
written immediately after the sad event. How sweet- 
ly Hortense returns a mother's love, and even in her 
dreams directs the weary spirit to the only source of 
help and composure amid the beatings of the tempest. 

JOSEPHINE TO MADAM F. BEAUHAKNAIS. 

" I commence this letter at a venture, and without 
knowing if it will reach you. On Tuesday last Nevil's 



66 LIFE OF JOSEPHUN^E. 

mother entered my apartment with an air of anxiety, 
and even grief, on her countenance. My mind revert- 
ed to her son. 'I do not weep for him,' said the good 
woman, sobbing aloud as she spoke ; ' though he be in 
secret confinement, I have no fears for his life ; he be- 
longs to a class whose members are pardoned, or rather 
overlooked ; others are more exposed.' * Olhers !' In- 
stantly my thoughts were at the Luxembourg. ' Has 
Alexander been called before the tribunal ?' exclaimed 
I ! * Be comforted, the viscount is well.' I could then 
think of no one for whom to feel alarm. The kind- 
hearted creature proceeded, with many precautions, to 
inform me that she alluded to myself. I immediately 
became tranquil. After having trembled for all that | 
we love, my God ! how delightful to have to fear only 
for one's self! 

" Yesterday morning I received an anonymous let- 
ter, advertising me of danger. I could have fled ; but 
whither retire without compromising my husband ? 
Decided thus to await the storm, I sat down with my 
children, and in their innocent caresses could almost 
have forgotten my misfortunes, if their very presence 
had not more forcibly recalled the absence of their 
father. Sleep stole them from my arms, which at such 
a moment folded them, as if instinctively, in a more 
tender embrace. Alas ! the love which unites a mother 
to her offspring has its superstitions also: and I know 
not what invincible presentiment overcame me with 
vague terror. Judge, if, thus left quite alone, I could 
banish this painful sentiment. Yet Heaven is witness, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 67 

thai the three cherished beings who constitute my 
whole happiness, occasion Kkewise my sole pain. How 
think of myself when they are threatened ? 

" I continued plunged in these reflections, when a 
loud knocking was heard at the outer door of the house. 
I perceived that my hour was come, and, finding the re- 
quisite courage in the very consciousness that the blow 
was inevitable, I resigned myself to endurance. While 
the tumult continued increasing, I passed into my chil- 
dren's apartment ; they slept ! and their peaceful 
slumber, contrasted with their mother's trouble, made 
me weep. I impressed upon my daughter's forehead, 
alas ! perhaps my last kiss ; she felt the maternal 
tears, and though still asleep, clasped her arms round 
my neck, whispering, in broken murmurs, ' Come to 
bed, fear nothing ; they shall not take you away this 
night. I have prayed to God for you.' 

*' Meanwhile, a crowd had entered my sitting-room, 
and there, at the head of ferocious and armed men, I 
found the same president already named, whom very 
weakness renders inhuman, and whose sloth favors his 
prepositions against the accused. These prejudices, 
so far as concerned me, were deemed by him sufficient 
warranty for my arrest ; without examination, as 
without probability, I saw that he firmly believed in 
what atrocious ignorance has termed the conspiracy of 
the Luxembourg. I spare you needless details; already 
have I been forced to impart too many sad ones. Let 
it suffice to know, that seals being placed upon every 
article with lock and key, I was conducted to the 



68 LITE OF JOSEPHIKE. 

house of detention at the Carmelites. Oh, what 
shudderings came over me on crossing that threshold, 
still humid with blood ! Ah ! my beloved aunt, for 
vi^hat outrages are not those men prepared w^ho did not 
punish the execrable crimes committed here !" 

Josephine's prison "at the Carmelites," was a con- 
vent distinguished in the Reign of Terror, for its heca- 
tombs of the eight thousand slain during four days of 
execution at the hands of an infatuated mob. Gloomy 
days ! when women rolled their sleeves for human 
butchery, and smiled at the havoc which drenched the 
dungeon-floor with blood, and awakened the perpetual 
and dismal echoes of dying agony. 

We can hardly appreciate the heroism of charactei 
which sustained this fair victim, away from every 
pleasant association, and surrounded with the stains of 
that general assassination ; while her husband and 
offspring were at the mercy of excited enemies. How 
marvellous often the different phases of destiny ! A 
dismal, bloody cell, and a dazzling throne — such the 
words that might have been traced in the crimson 
mould upon those dreary walls, as a brief memoir of 
the captive. 

Hortense and Eugene left alone in the solitude of a 
great city, which heeded not the friendless and suffer- 
ing, were thrown upon their youthful resources for 
escape from their night of desolation. A reckless 
crowd and the prison-pile were near — the mansion of 
the benevolent Madam F. Beauharnais in the distance 
— the prospect of access to either seemed equally hope- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIIO:, 69 

less. But never does the influence of earlv culture 
appear more decidedly than in circumstances like these ; 
when the want of experience and mature judgment 
throws the mind back upon the counsels of parental 
love. After various devices, they enlisted the mother 
of Nevil in their behalf; she transmitted intelligence 
of their unnatural orphanage to the amiable relative 
residing in the country, who soon conveyed them to 
her domain. Josephine was immediately informed of 
their safety, as the following extract from a letter to a 
lady in London, pleasantly shows, while it indicates 
also a sensible view of life, and a sublime calmness of 
spirit. 

" Let me place before you, my dear friend, two con- 
trasts, which we but seldom remark, though they 
present themselves every day ; and of which I have a 
fancy to talk with you for a moment. Good news, last 
evening, of my children — to-day, hopes in my husband's 
affairs : what more favorable to appetite, to sleep, and 
to good-humor ? Thus, mine is not so very sour ; and 
that it may become altogether agreeable, I set about 
writing to you. 

" You are young, rich, handsome, witty, adored by 
an amiable husband, and courted by a circle where 
your talents are applauded and enjoyed ; why, then, 
are you not happy ? I possess little fortune, still less 
beauty, no pretensions, few hopes ; how then am I able 
to taste some felicity ? Grave philosophers might 
perhaps enter into lengthy discussion, in order to 
resolve the question The problem would become still 



70 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

more complicated were I to add — the one lives in the 
land of independence and of liberty — yet she weeps : 
the other vegetates in a region of servitude — and, 
though in prison, is yet tranquil. To explain this 
diversity by difference of characters, is rather to post- 
pone the explanation than to remove the difficulty ; for 
whence arises the difference of character ? 

"My dear Clara obeys the impulse of her heart 
when she recounts to me sorrows which she exagger- 
ates : I, on my part, yield to the dictates of mine while 
entertaining her with what another would call pains, 
but which two days of slight hope, springing up once 
more in my breast, has transformed into pleasures. 

" Know you, my beloved friend, what it is that in a 
place such as this, creates unceasingly those pleasures 
which are almost always soothing, sometimes even 
positive happiness ? — two trifling combinations which 
concurred fortuitously ; namely, a parody of life in the 

great world, and the simplicity of private retirement. 

* * * * # * 

" Among the hundred and sixty captives composing 
our establishment, five or six private societies have 
been formed through resemblance of individual opin- 
ions and character. Some others there are, still more - 
closely associated by the most tender affections, and 
these, isolated and silent, mix little with the pleasures 
of the rest, which they never disturb. As for me, in- 
dependently of a number of acquaintances and friends 
whom I have recovered, I see everybody and every- 
where meet with hearts to console and misfortunes in 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 71 

which to sympathize. This reminds me that you, my 
dear Clara, believe yourself to be among the unfortunate 
and under that title have a right to what 1 lavish upon 
others. To-day, however, you shall have no consola- 
tion beyond the certainty of an approaching melioration 
in my destiny. Is not that sufficient to render yours 
happy, at least for some moments ? Need I assure you 
of my participation in your afflictions, imaginary 
though they be ? and know you not, that while you 
suffer I suffer also ? The greatest of all misfortunes is 
to doubt that which we love to think true, and such 
sorrow at least we shall never experience, so far as 
depends upon each other. Adieu, my friend. Courage ! 
Must that word be pronounced by her who languishes 
in prison ? Ought she not rather to preserve for her- 
self the exhortations which she sends to you? My 
children are well — De Beauharnais' affair assumes a. 
more favorable turn — why, then, should my fortitude 
fail ? Once more adieu." 

Josephine by acts of kindness and looks of sympathy 
towards those confined with her, won that affection 
cherished by all who came wuthin the circle of influ- 
ence, which like a charmed atmosphere always attend- 
ed her. There w^as a graceful freedom from all osten- 
tation of manner, that made her attentions doubly 
grateful to the suffering — and a true feminine delicacy 
of feeling, which rendered her conversation charming 
to the humblest admirer. 

Correspondence was permitted under inspection, be- 
tween her and Beauharnais, through the faithful Nevil, 



72 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

who had obtained his liberty. She describes, with, 
great simpHcity, an affair of romantic interest connect- 
ed with her prison friends, and sketches vividly the 
sanguinary events that might have filled the imagina- 
tion of a superstitious person with a thousand ghostly 
visions, and unearthly sounds of anguish and impre- 
cation. 

JOSEPHINE TO BEAUHARNAIS. 

"You have not forgotten the unfortunate village 
maiden in the environs of Rouen, who being abandon- 
ed by her lover, became insane, and wandered about 
the highways, inquiring of every traveller concerning 
her ungrateful seducer. The good Marsollier caused 
us to shed many tears when he related some years ago 
the misfortunes of the poor, forsaken maniac ; and our 
amiable Dalayrac has rendered them familiar to the 
public ear by verses which will not soon be forgotten. 
Well, my friend, there is in this house a youth, who, 
with even greater propriety than Nina, might become 
the hero of a drama. He is an English boy, named 
Tommy. The fatal consequences of an unfortunate 
passion have often been to be deplored, which, by de- 
priving the hapless sufferer of reason, takes away all 
feehng of sorrow ; but the sentiment of gratitude is 
rarely so profound as to produce the same effect. The 
wretched Tommy is a touching example of the excess 
of an affection of which much is said, but little felt. 
This history struck me as so interesting that I resolved 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 73 

to send you the relation. Your heart will appreciate 
the simple recital ; and, by occupying you for a few 
minutes with the sorrows of others, I shall beguile you 
from your own. To lament over our species, to give 
tears to their griefs, is, alas ! the sole distinction voucn- 
safed in a season of trial. 

" A respectable priest of St. Sulpice had conceived 
an affection for Tommy, and bestowed upon him the 
principles of a Christian education : I say Christian, in 
the full extent of the word ; for the worthy Abbe Cap- 
deville, equally tolerant as pious, made the youth his 
pupil only ,^ nor once thought of rendering him his pros- 
elyte ; persuaded that religion in a pure mind will in- 
sinuate itself gently by example, and can never be 
prescribed as maxims. Those which he inculcated 
upon Tommy were drawn from a universal charity, of 
which he exhibited meanwhile an affecting example in 
his own practice. A witness of numerous benefac- 
tions, distributed with no less kindness than discern- 
ment. Tommy could not doubt that the first foxmdation 
of religion is to be laid in charity. He was in Kke 
manner convinced that indulgence and toleration 
must have been ordained by God, whom he beheld so 
well manifested in the benevolent Abbe. This priest 
reserved for himself nothing beyond the simplest neces- 
saries : lavish towards others, he refused to himself 
whatever could not be regarded as indispensable at an 
age so advanced as his. The calmness and placidity 
of his countenance testified that his heart had ever 
been tranquil. Never did a shade appear on his vis- 



^4 LIFE OF JOSEPHrPTE. 

age, save when he found it impossible to be of service 
to a brother, or soothe the remorse of a guihy con- 
science. 

" Tommy, gifted with quick penetration and lively 
sensibiHty, conceived for his benefactor an attachment 
so much the more ardent that he had previously never 
known any one to love ! He had been deprived of a 
mother's tenderness before he could feel his loss ; and 
he was not more tban eight years old when Providence 
threw him in the way of this protecting angel. An 
orphan, forsaken by all the world, he had been receiv- 
ed, brought up, and educated by M. Capdeville. To 
obey the latter appeared so delightful to him, that he . 
succeeded in all things ; it sufficed that his father — for 
so the boy named the good priest — directed him to do 
anything, in which case an indefatigable perseverance 
enabled him to surmount every difficulty. This amiable 
and excellent youth displayed a remarkable aptitude 
for music. His voice, harmonious, though not bril- 
liant, accorded with several different instruments ; and 
his daily progress on the harp permitted the anticipa- 
tion that, by-and-by, he would be able to impart to 
others what he himself so well knew. M. Capdeville 
being a man of great learning, received as pupils the 
children of several distinguished professors, who in 
turn, took pleasure in teaching the protege of their 
friend. Thus, without expending what he conceived 
to be the property of the poor, the worthy man found 
means of procuring the best masters for his dear 
Tommy ; and so modest himself in everything per 



UFE OF JOSEPHINE. 75 

sonal, he enjoyed with pride the success of this child 
of his adoption, Alas ! the happiness which he thus 
experienced was destined to be of short duration ! 

"The consequences of the fatal 10th of August, 
crowded the prisons with almost every priest who had 
not taken the constitutional oaths. The Abbe Cap- 
deville, persuaded that churchmen ought to obey the 
powers that be, according to the precepts of the gos- 
pel, had given the required pledges, and submitting, if 
not in heart, at least to authority, had consequently no 
reason to fear any measure against himself But how 
abandon the venerable Archbishop of Aries, his di- 
ocesan and constant patron ? In consequence of this 
devotedness, the revolutionists of the section, who had 
seen, and wished to see, only an accomplice in a grate- 
ful friend, pronounced his imprisonment in the Carmel- 
ites. Here, some days afterward, by various means, 
and after much difficulty. Tommy contrived to join his 
benefactor ; for, at a time when a word, a look even, 
sufficed to plunge the individual into a dungeon, the 
poor youth was denied the privilege, which he solicited 
with ardor, of serving in his turn the old man who had 
watched over his childhood. The heartless men who 
refused for some time his request, termed their denial a 
favor, while it was but cruelty. One of the members, 
who had formerly been under obligations to M. Capde- 
ville, at length obtained an order, and Tommy, to his 
inexpressible joy, was shut up with his benefactor. 

" I wish to spare you, my friend, the description 
which has since been given me of the horrible massa- 



76 LEFB OP JOSEPHIISTE. 

ere which took place on the 2d of September in this 
prison — a spot forever memorable by reason of the 
sublime resignation of the numerous victims there sac- 
rificed. The chapel was particularly selected by the 
murderers as the scene of death for the clergy. They 
seemed to have been dragged thither in order that their 
last look might rest upon Him who, persecuted like His 
servants, had taught them to forgive ; and the last sighs 
of these unfortunate men respired in feeble hymns of 
praise. They were actually praying for their assassins 
when the frantic mob burst into the sacred place ! The 
Archbishop of Aries, seated in a chair on account of 
his great age, was giving his last benediction to his 
kneeling companions ; Capdeville, on his knees also, 
was reciting the prayers for those in peril — the respon- 
ses within were given as from a choir of martyrs, and 
without, in the savage vociferations of a furious crowd 
eager to shed blood. 

" Tommy, dreadfully agitated, traversed the whole 
building, in every sense of the word, stopping in order 
to listen, weeping at intervals, and uttering mournful 
cries. Some neighbors, whom a courageous pity had 
emboldened to enter, washed to save him and favored 
his escape ; but returning to his master, or rather friend, 
he took a station by his side, and refused to be sepa- 
rated from him. The ruffians, having forced open the 
door, and broken the windows, penetrated by several 
points at once : the pavements of the chapel, and the 
steps of the sanctuary, were speedily inundated with 
blood. Capdeville, struck immediately after the Bishop, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 77 

fell at Ws feet, and extending a mangled hand to 
Tommy, expired as he looked upon him. That look 
was a last blessing. 

"Already the poor youth, or.rather child — for he is 
not yet sixteen — exhibited unequivocal symptoms of 
alienation of mind ; on the death of his friend a fixed 
insanity appeared. The unfortunate Abbe, who had 
knelt apart from the companions of his martyrdom, 
having been engaged in officiating, had fallen with his 
head supported on the upper step of the altar, and his 
body extended across the others : the left hand was 
pressed against the heart, and the right, as I have al- 
ready said, extended toward his pupil. The blow that 
had deprived him of life had been so rapid in its oper- 
ation, that death had not effaced his habitual expres- 
sion of benevolence which lightened his placid counte- 
nance. He seemed to smile and slumber ; by some 
change in the reasoning faculties, Tommy became con- 
vinced that his friend slept. Instantly as if by enchant- 
ment the scene of slaughter disappeared from before 
his vision ; he knelt down by the side of the bleeding 
corpse, waiting its awaking. After three hours of 
watching, and as the sun sank beneath the horizon, 
Tommy went to seek his harp, and again sat down 
beside the remains of his friend, playing melancholy 
airs, in order to hasten his awaking, which appeared 
to him to be long in taking place. While thus em- 
ployed, sleep stole over his own frame, and the chari- 
table hands which removed from the despoilers the 
bodies of the martyrs carried away Tommy, and laid 



78 I»IFB OF JOSEPHINE, 

him on his bed. There he remained eight- and-forty 
hours in a kind of lethargy, whence, however, he 
awoke, with all the appearances of soundness of body 
and mind. But, if health had been restored, reason 
had fled forever. 

" In commiseration of his pious madness, a free asy- 
lum has been granted to him in this house, where he 
passes the day in silence till each afternoon at three 
o'clock. The moment that hour strikes. Tommy, who 
ordinarily walks slowly, runs to seek his harp, upon 
which, leaning against the ruins of the altar still re- 
maining in the chapel, he plays his friend's favorite 
airs. The expression of his countenance on these oc- 
casions announces hope ; he seems to expect a word 
of approbation from him whose remembrance he cher- 
ishes ; this hope and this employment continue until 
six o'clock, when he leaves off abruptly, saying, ' Not 
yet ! — but to-morrow he will speak to his child.' He 
then kneels down, prays fervently, rises with a sigh, 
and retires softly upon tiptoe, that he may not disturb 
the imaginary repose of his benefactor. The same 
affecting scene takes place day after day ; and during 
the intervals, the poor boy's faculties seem completely 
absorbed, till the fatal hour calls forth the same hopes, 
destined forever to be chilled by the same disappoint- 
ment. 

" Though a prisoner within the same building, I had 
not had an opportunity of seeing the unfortunate youth. 
I have just for the first time looked upon that counte- 
nance whereon are depicted so many griefs and virtues. 



LIFE OF JOSlirillNS. 79 

I found it impossible to entertain you with anything 
else to-day. Adieu, then, my friend, till to-morrow ; 
but more happy than Tommy, I am certain of being 
able to repeat to the object of my solicitude all the ten- 
derness with which he inspires me." 

There cannot be a more touching disclosure of a pure 
philanthropy and disinterested kindness of heart, than 
this little narrative. And were it not for a native flow 
of animal spirits, and familiarity with sad reverses, in 
a period of wild discord, Josephine's cheerful interest 
in the happiness of others, and the comparative sang- 
froid of Beauharnais, amid the thickening gloom that 
to every observant eye hung menacingly on the future, 
would be marvellous. He enters into her benevolent 
commiseration of Tommy, with a delicacy of feeling 
and sympathy, which shed an attractive lustre upon his 
character, and afford, in the subjoined reply, a pleasing 
continuation of the young maniac's history. 

' BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. 

"Your history, my beloved friend, is extremely 
touching, and little Tommy very interesting. After 
having read your letter more than once, privately, I 
communicated it to our circle, and each like myself, 
praised, as he deserves, the poor victim of the noblest 
of all sentiments — that is to say, all have shed tears 
over his misfortunes. All France would do the same 
were the circumstances disclosed. Ah ! how he merits 
to be known ! What a contrast to the crimes of the 



80 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

age! But the epochs of the greatest iniquities are 
Hkewise the eras of the loftiest virtues, and for the 
sake of example, that of Tommy ought not to remain 
in obscurity. We have talents here which will find 
delight in holding up his to general admiration. One 
of us is prepared to paint the portrait of your Tommy ; 
another will dedicate his literary exertions to the same 
pious purpose ; and this little monument, offered with- 
out pretension to a public not naturally insensible, 
may, perhaps, lay the foundation of the orphan's 
fortune. 

" For my own part, I shall be happy to contribute to 
this effect by attaching the forsaken youth to the 
fortunes of our son. Eugene bears in his heart the 
germ of every virtue; and how would these seeds of 
goodness be ripened into activity by the example of 
one who had carried even to excess the affections of 
attachment and gratitude ! Do not lose sight of this 
idea ; it will, my good Josephine, accord with your 
benevolent inclinations ; and, should it ever be realized, 
we shall have gained, from the most painful occurrences 
of our life, the rarest of all • monuments — the most 
affecting of all recollections. 

"My oppression diminishes daily; there remains 
only a severe cold, which has fixed upon my chest, 
through the perpetual irritation inseparable from my 
situation. At the sight of the doctor, all this disappears ; 
and when I read your letters, my dear Josephine, I 
cannot persuade myself but that I am happy ! When 
we shall once more be reunited, my happiness will no 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 81 

longer be an illusion, and you will be of the same mind 
for you will feel it to be real." 

Josephine attributed this returning hope of a reunion, 
to the effect of reading of the " Old Cordelier," a work 
whose appearance was hailed by the victims of Robes- 
pierre, as evidence of more moderation in views, and a 
less brutal policy to succeed that which decimated 
France. After alluding with triumphant anticipation 
to the new ground of courage, in a note to Beauharnais, 
she casually discloses the volatility and irreligion of the 
noblesse ; showing their entire incapacity to introduce 
a better order of things in government, had they 
attained the power. While lust, blasphemy, and legal- 
ized murder, were filling the land with horrors at 
which the civilized world stood aghast, and executioners 
were impatient to add their bodies to the gladiatorial 
show, these captives were busy with the plans of 
extravagant pleasure, and dreaming only of the sports 
of the turf, and the excitement of the chase. In her 
own words : " One half of our captives have given 
orders for fetes, country parties, and new furniture. 
To-day, Madam de S. sent for a famous jockey, with 
whom she has concluded a treaty for replenishing her 
stud ; and the old Du Merbion, with whom you may 
recollect having hunted at Rainey, has ordered from 
Scotland six couple of terriers, such as were never seen 
in France. In short, projectors of all descriptions are 
retained by the month; and when we do get out I 
know not if we shall find a morsel of food ! Nevil's 
mother participates in our hopes and our joys ; and 



82 LIFE OF JOSEPHnSTB, 

you, my dear Alexander, you must not destroy them 
with a cruel foresight — an ill-founded distrust, and all 
the sinister presentiments inspired by too much experi- 
ence, by the remembrance of a home, and the aspect 
of a prison. Till we meet, my beloved, adieu; I do 
not to-day embrace you upon cold paper; for I hold 
myself in reserve soon to lavish upon you endearments 
like my affection — real. 

" P. S. I have written to our aunt, imparting the 
happy news. I wrote also to our children, and have 
informed Eugene of a companion worthy of him. 
Tommy consents to live with us, but stipulates one 
express condition — namely, that, upon the second day 
of every month, at three o'clock in the afternoon, he 
shall be permitted to come here, and, by the harmony 
of his notes, charm the dreams of his sleeping friend 
during the whole continuance of the Revolution ! 
Poor Tommy ! who would not be moved by a delirium 
so affectins: !" 

This postscript is the last glimpse of her protege^ 
Tommy; the effect of subsequent release upon the 
helpless one among thousands — his wanderings and 
death are unrecorded. He was nevertheless great as 
the greatest, in the essential elements of humanity, and 
his title to immortality beyond the dread theatre of his 
sufferings. 

Josephine amused herself in writing to her husband 
and children, while her presence and goodness shed a 
beautiful radiance athwart the gloom of desponding 
spirits in that prison, and formed a fine contrast with 



LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 8:^ 

the idiot folly and sensuality that marked the character 
of her associates, from the fashionable walks of life 
She was a fond mother, and yet endowed with decision, 
which never sacrificed principle, and propriety, to 
parental partiality. There is a delightful illustration 
of this trait, in a brief letter to Hortense after an 
adventure that no less displayed the impulsive ardor of 
the daughter, who, leaving her aunt secretly one 
morning, rode to Paris, thirty miles, with a market- 
man ; returning the following day without having 
obtained the object of her filial flight. 

JOSEPHINE TO HORTENSE. 

" I should be entirely satisfied with the good heart of 
my Hortense, were I not displeased with her bad head. 
How, my daughter, is it, without permission from youi 
aunt, that you have come to Paris ? What do I say ? 
It is contrary to her desire ! This is very bad. But 
it was to see me, you will say. You ought to be quite 
aware that no one sees me without an order, to obtain 
which requires both means and precautions, such as 
poor Victorine is little able to take. And, besides, you 
got upon M. Darcet's cart, at the risk of incommoding 
him, and retarding the conveyance of his merchandise. 
In all this you have been very inconsiderate. My 
child, observe, it is not sufficient to do good ; you must 
also do that good properly. At your age, the first of all 
virtues is confidence and docility towards your rela- 
tions. I am therefore obliged to tell you, that I prefer 



D 



¥: 



84 LIFE 01<' JOSEPHIIOI, 

your brother's tranquil attachment to your misplaced 
warmth. This, however, does not prevent me from 
embracing you, but less tenderly than I shall do when 
I have learned that you are again at Fontainebleau " 

This reproof almost broke Hortense's sensitive heart, 
soothed only by the renewed affection and attentions 
of her guardian aunt. 

Robespierre was still apparently relenting, approving 
the conservatism of the " Old Cordelier," whose publi- 
cation, after all, was only permitted as a test of popular 
feeling. And when he saw that the subsiding swell of 
madness for blood was slowly sweeping down upon his 
throne of terror, his suspension of the unsparing havoc 
was an interlude of preparation with him — his blows 
would be more certain when his eye had scanned fully 
the front of darkening danger. 

But Josephine and De Beauharnais both cherished 
anticipations of release, strengthened by the interposi- 
tion of friends who had come into places of power. 
Cubieres and Sigas were principals in this effort to 
save the Viscount, and others before whom he would 
be summoned if tried, had served under his command 
in the army. Sigas, minister of war, was selected to 
report this case to the Committee of Public Safety, 
which drew from Josephine a communication credita- 
ble alike to the mind and heart of the writer. 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 85 



JOSEPHLN'E TO CITIZEN PEOSPER SIGAS. 

" Citizen, — I am informed that you have been em 
ployed to prepare a report, to be presented to the Com- 
mittee of General Safety, on the affair of General 
Beauharnais. For this I give thanks to heaven ; and 
had I been permitted to choose my judge, that choice 
would have fallen upon you. I had heard you men- 
tioned, and always has your name been accompanied 
by those honorable but considerate epithets which flat- 
tery can never invent, which can be inspired by grati- 
tude alone, and are never deceitful. Subsequently 
chance, or rather Providence, became less severe to- 
wards us — placed me in momentary correspondence 
with you. That brief space sufficed to convince me, 
that the gratitude of those whom you have obliged is 
only consistent with truth. I also am become one of 
those whose misfortunes you have endeavored to miti- 
gate. I have to unite my gratitude to that of the many 
unfortunate beings whom you have labored to render 
forgetful of their calamities. ITor are you ignorant 
that mine increase in bitterness each day that passes 
away while my husband remains in prison untried. 
For it is no longer his liberty which he solicits — he de- 
mands his trial. A brave soldier has a right to this 
when he is accused of a crime which compromises his 
honor. 

" Alexander de Beauharnais a conspirator ! One of 
the founders of liberty meditating its downfall! He 



86 LIFE OF JOSEPHnnS. 

who among a hundred others, was distinguished as a 
promoter of the republic, essaying to overturn freedom ! 
Citizen, you have never believed the accusation, and 
those who have brought it forward believe it no more 
than you. But the importance lies in that his judges 
should no longer give credit to the imputation. Let 
them listen to you, and they will be persuaded. Do 
not tell them, however, that his wife, equally innocent 
as himself, languishes far from him, under other bolts 
than those by which he is retained. I speak of myself 
only to enable you to appreciate the injustice done to 
Alexander. Forget the mother persecuted, and her 
children dispersed, in order to think solely of the father 
and husband, or rather of the soldier and citizen, wor- 
thy of recovering honor and liberty.*' 

The appeal was successful in obtaining an interview 
between Josephine and her husband by his removal to 
the office of the Committee. The meeting was ar- 
ranged without the knowledge of either, with the fur- 
ther design of securing the main object if possible. 

She was brought from prison and conducted to an 
ante-room, there to await the summons for trial before 
the tribunal of mock-justice. While in an agony of 
suspense in the very grasp of the foe, suddenly De 
Beauharnais was ushered into the apartment. The 
mutual surprise was overwhelming, Beauharnais, 
pale and haggard from confinement, fixed his brilliant 
eye upon the beautiful being before him, in amaze- 
ment, while with mantling cheek and quivering lip, 
after a momentary pause, she rushed to his arms. 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 87 

They wept with rapture, and when the emotion which 
effaced the gloomy record of " a whole year of misery! 
was past, and thought returned to the future, a ray of 
light played upon the horizon of despair to the gaze of 
the Viscount, whose hastening ordeal would blot it out 
forever. Sigas broke the charm of this unexpected 
hour of bliss, by entering to announce the removal 
from office of reporter Louis of the Lower Rhine, who 
was kindly disposed toward the family of Beauharnais ; 
and consequently to urge an examination upon the 
new officer of the Committee, would be inexpedient, 
perhaps defeat the noble purpose of friends who had 
made the encouraging movement. 

Josephine writes : — " I also resolved to profit by this 
information, and promised to solicit no audience till a 
more favorable moment. This occasion had indeed, 
been far from unpropitious, since it had brought us to- 
gether. But in what a place! and at what a crisis! 
I know not what my poor Alexander thought of me ; 
for my part, I found him very pale, very thin, and 
sadly changed. As to his disposition, that is ever the 
same; he is the most amiable and the noblest of men. 
Resignation, courage, heroic sentiments, and conduct 
still more magnanimous, such are the principles of his 
character. He had wept with joy on once more be- 
holding me ; when it had become necessary that we 
should separate, he was calm and collected. He em- 
braced me more like a friend than a husband, and rec- 
ommended our children to my care. Such tranquillity 
becomes innocence like his. Now I grieve that these 



88 LIFE OF JOSEPHIJiTB. 

people of the Committee did not see him. Could they 
have resisted the ascendency of his virtues ?" 

This trusting wife, with all her experience in scenes 
of human cruelty — her sorrows inflicted by the fero- 
city of the gory tribunal, did not fathom the caverns 
of iniquity in the bosoms of those who held the reins 
that guided the car of Reason over the corpse of every 
opposing citizen, whether prince or beggar. 

Her next intelligence of Beauharnais was the sen- 
tence on the 6th Thermidor, (July 23d, 1794,) and its 
execution on the succeeding day. Two days later 
Robespierre fell amid the execrations of the mob, just 
in time to avert the lifted stroke from the head of Jose- 
phine. So does destiny hinge on moments, and lie 
coiled in a passing event, that with a little change in 
ts relation to the individual, it would have given a dif- 
ferent aspect to time and eternity. Had Robespierre 
been slain a few hours sooner, Beauharnais had lived, 
and "the first wife of Napoleon," never been added to 
the honors of Josephine — had the tyrant been spared 
till another morning, she would have been thrown with 
her beheaded companion into the pit of the undistin- 
guished dead. 

When apprized of his doom, Beauharnais was calm, 
for the event had been expected, till the apprehension 
assumed the form of a presentiment, and prepared his 
mind for the time of sacrifice. It would seem that he 
w^as a believer in Revelation, and borrowed sustaining 
hope from its sacred page, intelligently appreciating 
the solemnity of entering " within the veil" of com- 



" LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 89 

pleted destiny, and of reckoning with a Judge whose 
decisions are unerring and final. 

During this night of contemplation, his last on earth 
he wrote a parting message to Josephine, interrupted 
by the messengers of death, from whom he purchased 
a lock of his own hair, shorn off in accordance with 
usage, before execution, to expose fully the victim's 
neck to the fatal axe. What a concentration of life 
into that brief period ! The past lay behind him with 
its bitter and pleasant memories — the present like the 
last goblet of water pressed to the parched lip of the 
perishing for thirst, each drop a treasure, was counted 
by moments — and before his swimming eye lay a cul- 
prit's grave, and the vast shadows of a realm un- 
known. 

Enclosing the memorial of affection in the letter, he 
was hurried away to the guillotine, and for a while 
silence rested on the closing scene of his tragical ca- 
reer as a member of the Gironde. At length the rehc 
reached Josephine, and, to quote from a line to Madam 
F. Beauharnais, transmitting the manuscript for peru- 
sal, produced " a sweet change in all her feelings," dis- 
pelling a dark mystery, and reviving affection with new 
tokens of love. 

DE BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. 

"night of the e-TTH THERMIDOR, 

Year 2d, Conciergery {24c~2bth July, 1794.) 

** Yet some moments to tenderness, to tears, and to 
regret — then wholly to the glory of my fate, to the 



90 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

grand thoughts of immortality. When you receive 
this letter, my Josephine, your husband will have long 
ceased to live here, but, in the bosom of his God, he will 
have begun to enjoy a real existence. Thou seest, 
then, that there is indeed no cause for mourning on his 
account ; it is over the wicked, the insensate men who 
survive him that tears are to be shed ; for they inflict, 
and are incapable of repairing the evil. But let us not 
sully with their guilty image these last moments. I 
would, on the contrary, adorn them by the thought, 
that having been united to a charming woman, I might 
have beheld the years passed with her glide away with- 
out the slightest cloud, had not WTongs, of which I be- 
came sensible only when too late, troubled our union. 
This reflection wrings tears from me. Thy generous 
soul pardoned the moment that suflfering overtook me ; 
and I ought to recompense thee for such kindness by 
enjoying, without recalling it to thy remembrance, since 
I must thus bring back the recollection of my errors 
and thy sorrows. What thanks do I owe to Provi- 
dence, who will bless thee ! 

" Now Heaven disposes of me before my time, and 
even this is one of its mercies. Can the good man 
live without grief when he sees the world a prey to the 
wicked ? I should think myself happy, therefore, in 
being removed from their power, did I not feel that I 
abandon to them beings so valued and beloved. If, 
however, the thoughts of the dying be presentiments, 1 
experience one in the recesses of my heart which as- ■ 
sures me that these horrible butcheries are soon to be 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIKTE. 91 

suspended — that to the victims are to succeed their 
executioners — that the arts and sciences, the true pros- 
perity of states, shall flourish again in France — that 
wise and equitable laws will reign after these cruel 
sacrifices — and that you will obtain that happiness of 
which you were always worthy, and which to the pres- 
ent time has fled from you. Our children will con- 
tribute to your felicity — they will discharge theii 
father's debt. 

" I resume these incoherent and almost illegible lines, 
which my jailers had interrupted. 

" I have just undergone a cruel formality, which, 
under other circumstances, they should have forced me 
to endure only by depriving me of life. But why 
strive against necessity? reason requires that we do 
all for the best. My hair has been cut off. I have 
contrived to purchase back a portion of it in order to 
bequeath to my wife, and to my children, undeniable 
evidence, pledges of my last recollections. I feel that 
at this thought my heart is breaking, and tears bedew 
the paper. Farewell, all that I love ! Love each 
other ; speak of me ; and never forget that the glory 
of dying the victim of tyrants, the martyr of freedom, 
ennobles the scaffold." 

In the mean time, Josephine was suffering the an- 
guish of suspense as to her own fate, which, with this 
sudden bereavement, prostrated her system, and well 
nigh dethroned reason. She heard without pain the 
summons to prepare for the guillotine. But the fall of 
Eobespierre, and his fearful end, before the decision 



9ii LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

was carried into effect, rescued her from the murderer's 
hand, and with seventy others doomed to death on the 
following morning. 

Never, perhaps, was there a more forcible illustra- 
tion of the mastery of superstition over the mind, when 
it once has usurped control of tlie imagination, than 
that afforded by Josephine's turning triumphantly amid 
the sad yet changeful events that crowded upon her, to 
the prediction of Euphemia, the '' magicioM^'' of Mar- 
tinique. When the jailer came to remove the furni- 
ture of her prison for another captive, and replied to 
the remonstrance of Duchess d'Aiguillon, with an 
" atrocious laugh," as he finished his work, " She will 
not need it ; she is to be taken to a new lodging, 
and thence to the guillotine ;" while her companions 
lifted a wild lamentation, she calmed their fears by as- 
suring them, she was yet to be the Queen of FranGS. 
A singular reaction of feeling brought back, with the 
power of a revelation from the skies, this remarkable 
liii in the guessings of a gipsy, and was at least ser- 
' viceable in reviving her worn and drooping spirits. 
The circumstances of Robespierre's death, whom 
the delirious populace at first named the '''patriot'' — 
then the "virtuous" — then again the " incorruvtible** 
— and at length the ''great," exhibit impressively the 
certain retribution of gigantic crime, and also the in- 
fluence of small events on the destinies of men. The 
murmur of "tyrant" which had startled him to vigi- 
lance and mock clemency, found a response even in 
the party who sustained him in power, and a con- 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 93 

spiracy was formed of which Tallien was the guiding 
genius. But to hurl the ensanguined Titan from his 
seat was no trivial exploit, and when or how the con- 
spirators should " crush the wretch," was a problem 
whose solution might have been delayed till the morn- 
ing sacrifice of citizens had filled the open pits that 
waited for the mutilated forms of princes and mendi- 
cants — maidens and mothers — ^but for Tallien's love 
for a beautiful captive, Madam de Fontenay, who for 
his sake leaving her husband, was finally divorced. 
She found that her blood was required, and without 
immediate action, she would be hurried to the scaffold. 
One evening as she was wont to do, she stood before 
the prison-grates, accompanied by her friend Madam 
Beauharnais, to have at least a look from Tallien, who 
thus nourished his own attachment. Madam de Fon- 
tenay determined to make an effort to avert the stroke 
of the dictator. She resorted to one of the many dis- 
guises employed by parted friends in all ages, under 
the vulture eye of oppression. Attracting Tallien's 
attention, she threw a cabbage-stalk from the window, 
enclosing a note, entreating him ' if he loved her, to 
urge every means to save France, and her." The die 
was cast — he hastened to the Committees, and fanned 
the discord there, then entered the Convention, where 
Robespierre was silently waiting like a couchant tiger 
for conflict with his foes. St. Just was addressing the 
assembly, and as he uttered the words, "I lift the 
veil," he forced him from the tribune, and shouted with 
awakening energy, "I rend it asunder!" Then like 



94 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Cicero on Catiline, he turned his impetuous harangue 
upon Robespierre, until the indignation was concen- 
trated in that cry of vengeance, " Down with the 
tyrant !" resounding through the hall, the knell of his 
doom. He was arrested in the circle of his adherents, 
who made a short struggle in his defence ; but escap- 
ing from custody and accompanied by them, he pro- 
ceeded to the Hotel de Ville. The Convention de- 
clared them all " outlaws," and broke in upon their 
conclave to finish the summary sentence. After an 
unsuccessful attempt to kill himself, Robespierre was 
dragged to the guillotine, and his brother, with others 
of the Jacobin oligarchy, soOn after followed him to 
the block. Thus perished amid the execrations of the 
people, the homicide they worshipped as a god when 
he rose to his guilty eminence on the ruins of a fallen 
throne. This was on the 9th Thermidor, (July 27, 
1794.) And thus a woman indirectly slew the ruler in 
this Reign of Terror, and opened the way for her com- 
panion in peril, to reach the summit from which he 
was so suddenly hurled, and which her virtues would, 
by a mighty contrast, brilliantly adorn. 

And it was doubtless through the influence of this 
lady, afterwards Madam Tallien, that Josephine re- 
gained her freedom — though the process of her libera- 
tion is not disclosed. For under the new government 
of a kingdom still throbbing to its centre with the vol- 
canic action of the mad-fever raging in its bosom 
there was only a cessation of cruelties — a conservative 
check thrown upon the revolutionary struggle ; while 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 96 

the masses were suffering, and the prisoners retained 
as a kind of hostage for future emergency. Josephine 
warmly acknowledged the kindness of the interposition 
which saved her, and was ever afterwards a devoted 
friend of Madam Tallien. 

Letters which were written by the widowed mother 
the night before her anticipated trial, evince the un- 
sullied devotion to her family, so conspicuous in every 
change of her varied fortunes. She prepared messages 
for Eugene and Hortense, in which she says, " My last 
sigh will be one of tenderness, and I hope my last 
words may prove a lesson. Time was when I could 
impart sweet instructions, but the present will not be 
less useful, that they have been given in the season of 
calamity." Although restored to her joyful offspring 
and the bosom of friends, her property had gone down 
in the vortex from which she but narrowly esoaped, 
and France itself was desolate. Her benevolence in 
brighter years, was remembered, and there were 
those who cheerfully extended aid in the destitution 
that prevailed, especially Madam Dumoulin, an excel- 
lent woman, " to whom," she has said, " I was actually 
indebted for my daily bread." The famine raged so 
fiercely, the wealthiest were fearful of starvation — and 
the common people, like those of afflicted Ireland at 
present, were frantic skeletons or dying maniacs. As 
the previous years were called the Reign of Terror, so 
1795 might be named the ''starving time.'' It is also 
related that to escape the restless spirit of ochlocracy 
which yet was rife, Madam Beauharnais was obliged 



96 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

to apprentice Eugene to a carpenter m the Rue deP 
Echelle, lest his noble blood should make him a mark 
for the assassin's stroke ; and that the subsequent Vice- 
roy of Italy, in this condition, was seen bearing on his 
youthful shoulders the heavy plank, and other bui"tlens 
incident to his rough employment. It is certain, his 
mother afterward alluded to their humble life at Fon- 
tainebleau, to restrain ambition, and enforce on the 
prince's mind the lessons of humanity and magna- 
nimity. 

We may here pause, where the " counter-revolution 
equally bold and artful, raised its vengeance-glowing 
head ;" and survey the outline of the unparalleled 
movement, whose rapid sweep astonished the nations. 

Its rise was manifestly the legitimate result of cor- 
ruption in the social and political state, in contrast 
with the diffusion of intelligence among the people. 
Since the advent of Christ, ideas of equality of rights, 
essential to human responsibility, had been penetrating 
the minds of the enslaved, and the pi^ess scattered 
them like firebrands among the combustible material 
that lies beneath the shadow of every despotic throne. 
National bankruptcy and pecuniary distress, in con- 
nection with the light Montesquieu shed on the cause 
of freedom, followed by Voltaire and Rousseau, whose 
scepticism also prepared the way for the blind atrocity 
which distinguished the revolution ; hastened the dread- 
ful consummation of awakeninor rebellion in France. 

The clear illumination of Revelation was discarded 
as superstition, and sensuality, passion, characteristic 



LIFE OP JOSEPHIJSTE. 97 

frivolity, and aristocratic bitterness of the court and 
foreign monarchies to innovation, made the struggle 
from its commencement a lawless, dark, ferocious, and 
hopeless civil war. Yet did 1789 bring such a shiver- 
mg of fetters, and shout of uprising millions, that the 
sound rose above the shrieks of madness and groans of 
death-agony, and fell like music on the ear of the 
oppressed, and as a knell, was listened to by anxious 
kings. The echo of that conflict has not died away, 
but a response is heard in the deepening voice of the 
masses demanding justice ; and beheld in the birth- 
throes of hberty that shake the dynasties of Europe. 

As. we have seen, the first decisive action was the 
convocation of the Estates, April 27th, 1789. The 
committal of Louis to the third estate, or the people, 
by which his authority was gone — and the consequent 
indecision when urged to crush the tumult by massacre, 
followed by the report of the banishment of Necker 
and Montmain, both popular ministers — inflamed the 
multitude, and spread insurrection on every side. 
Then came the storming of the Bastile, the state for- 
tress, in which the noblest and purest had wept and died. 
The eager throng raising their wild outcry, rushed 
upon the hoary sepulchre of hope and innocence like 
resistless surges, till it fell amid the acclamations of 
millions, and their tears of joy; while the overthrow 
resounded over the continent, gladdening everywhere 
the hearts of the good. 

Political fanaticism, excited and encouraged by as- 
piring and unprincipled leaders, succeeded ; the abari- 



98 LIFE OF JOSEPHIJ^E. 

doned and homeless flocked together, with curses beg- 
ging for bread, until forty thousand marched toward 
Versailles, and the royal family were compelled to ask 
for mercy. Conducted by the rabble to Paris, Louis 
was a creature of the living tide, that now with accumu- 
lating strength bore on its bosom the titles of nobility 
and the insignia of rank, threatening the very citadel 
of Bourbon power. Clubs arose which favored the 
concentration of Revolutionary action. The King 
finally fled, but after five days, returning, was reinstated, 
and signed a constitution which was speedily over- 
thrown, while foreign coalition to crush democracy, 
"poured oil on the blazing flame." September 21st, 
1792, the Jacobin faction, headed by Robespierre and 
Marat, having obtained the ascendant, declared Royalty 
forever abolished, and France a Republic. 

Louis XVI. was arraigned before the Convention, 
December 11th; January 17th. condemned, and was 
executed on the 21st of the same month. Next fell 
the Gironde, of whom Beauharnais was a chief in 
elevation of mind, and terrorism with its hideous tribu- 
nal was supreme. In this unexampled machinery of 
desolation, were a Committee of Public Safety, the 
many-headed monster which wielded the strength — 
having its secret courts, and dictating measures at 
pleasure, however villanous their design. The Com- 
mittee of Public Security was subordinate, acting as 
police, and with the former constituting the Legislative 
Assembly as far as any deliberative action softened the 
fierceness of misrule and unbridled depravity. The 



LIF£ OF JOSEPHINE. 99 

crowning terror was the Tribunal, whose eight judges 
and twelve jurymen, were a frightful semblance of 
justice to the accused. This executive, afterward 
divided into four branches for more successful opera- 
tion, was aided by the Parisian Club, whose members 
hunted out the suspected, whether retired citizens or 
active patriots — and the guillotine declared permanent, 
flooded the land with the life-stream of headless trunks, 
till more than a million were offered up to the deity of 
Reason. 

So from each smiling valley and sunny slope, with 
the spreading dawn, the sledges were visible loaded 
with victims, and the green turf bathed in the red bap- 
tism, till the people drunk with slaughter, turned on the 
insatiate autocrat, and trampled him indignantly under 
their feet. This crisis reserved Josephine for new 
scenes, and brighter as well as gloomier days. 

With the pUancy of disposition, so striking in 
Frenchmen, Paris stained with blood, soon displayed 
the gorgeous livery of fashion, and circles of festivity 
Madam Tallien, and Madam Beauharnais, were con- 
spicuous in the saloons, on account of their beauty and 
accomplishments, especially the former, ^ho^Q personal 
attractions were superior to those of the graceful 
widow. It is pleasing to witness amid this singular 
oblivion of the past, a remembrance of the dead, and 
cultivation of the better feelings, as in the following 
letter of 

JOSEPHINE TO MADAM F. BEAUHARNAIS. 

, " I must relate to you a charming trait of our Eugene 

r E 



100 LIFE OF JOSEPHENE. 

Yesterday, being the 7th Thermidor, the anniversary 
of a day ever to be deplored, I sent for him, and shov^''- 
ing the engraved portrait of his father, said, ' There, 
my son, is what will prove equivalent to si-x months of 
diligent study and of wise conduct. The portrait is for 
you ; carry it to your chamber, and let it often form 
the object of your contemplations. Above all, let him 
vvhose image it presents be your constant model : he 
was the most amiable and affectionate of men, he 
would have been the best of fathers.' Eugene spoke 
not a word : his look was cast down, his countenance 
suffused, and his grief evident in his agitation. On 
receiving the portrait, he covered it with kisses and 
tears.' Mine also flowed apace, and thus, silently 
locked in each other's embrace, w^e offered to the 
shade of Alexander an acceptable homage. 

" The same evening all my friends having retired 

excepting Cubiere and St. , I beheld my son enter, 

followed by six of his young friends, each decorated 
with a copy of Alexander's portrait, suspended from 
the neck by a black and white ribbon. ' You see,' 
said Eugene, ' the founders of a new order of knight- 
hood ; behold our tutelary saint,' pointing to the 
portrait of his father, ' and these are the first members/ 
introducing his youthful friends. ' Ours is named the 
order of Filial Love, and if you would witness the first 
inauguration, pass with these gentlemen into the small 
drawing-room.' Judge, my dear aunt, of my emotion ! 
We followed Eugene. Our little saloon, fitted up with 
a taste in which I recognized the hand of Victorine, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. lOl 

was ornamented with a long garland of ivy, roses, and 
laurels. Inscriptions, extracted from the printed dis- 
courses or remarkable sayings of M. de Beauharnais, 
filled the intervals, and beneath them were girandoles 
with lighted tapers. This heroic and simple decora- 
tion served as an offset to a species of altar, upon 
which, surrounded with festoons of flowers, and with 
flambeaux, stood the whole-lengthportraitof my unfor- 
tunate husband. Three crowns, one of white and red 
roses, a second of laurel, and the third of cypress, were 
suspended from the picture-frame ; and in front stood 
two vases with perfumes. Six others of my son's com- 
panions, ranged about the altar, maintained a respect- 
ful silence. On seeing us, the greater part, being arm- 
ed with swords, unsheathed their weapons, and clasp- 
ing the hand of my son, took the oath, 'to love their 
parents — to succor each other — and to defend their 
country.' At this sacred word, my son, unfurling and 
waving a small pennon, shaded among its folds the 
head of his father. We embraced each other, min- 
gling tears with smiles, and the most amiable disordei 
succeeded to the ceremonial of inauguration. 

" Ah ! my beloved aunt, could anything comfort me 
for my irreparable loss, would not my children prove 
my consolation, who, while they make me feel it more 
acutely, sweeten the pain by so many good and endear- 
ing qualities ! How much did I regret that my Hor- 
tense was absent ! — but she is with you. She will read 
my letter ; she will weep with joy in there recognizing 
her own affections, and will double her delight while 



102 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

she runs to mingle tears with those of her brother, who, 
I am well assured, will ever bear in mind his father's 
constancy and courage, and will strive to render him- 
self worthy of the name he bears, by perpetuating the 
briUiant actions which render the warrior illustrious, 
and which honor the peaceful citizen. The heart of 
my Eugene includes all that is good and great." 

Cheered by visions of Eugene's future glory, and 
idolized in the society of the metropolis, where even 
over Barras ^nd others w^ho had been associated with 
the terrorists, she threw a subduing spell, while she won 
their friendship, advantageous as it was sincere, Jose- 
phine passed quietly the vernal months of 1795 ; a pre- 
lude to her entrance upon a wider and more splendid 
theatre of influence. 



CHAPTER IV. 

BONAPARTE IN PARIS. A GLANCE AT HIS HISTORY. — PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 

HIS EXPLOIT THE 13tH VENDEMIAIRE. ACQUAINTANCE WITH JOSE- 
PHINE. HER VIEWS OF A SECOND MARRIAGE. HESITATES. NAPOLEON 

FREQUENTS THE MANSION OF MADAM DE BEAUHARNAIS. HIS CONVERSA- 
TIONAL POWERS. MARRIAGE. LEAVES HIS BRIDE TO JOIN THE ARMY, 

BRILLIANT SUCCESS. CORRESPONDENCE. EUGENE's HEROISM. LETTERS 

TO JOSEPHINE. HER RESIDENCE AT MILAN. BONAPARTE's PECULIARI- 
TIES, AND KINDNESS TO JOSEPHINE's FAMILY. HE MARCHES TO RASTADT, 

RETURNS TO PARIS. JOSEPHINE JOINS HIM. 

It was " Prarial"* of the third year of the Repub- 
hc, (1795,) when Napoleon, the hero of Toulon, return- 
ed to Paris, suspended from his rank as General of the 
artillery, and taking private lodgings, renewed his in- 
timacy with his old classmate and friend, Bourrienne. 
Albitti and Salicetti, who succeeded the terrorists as 
Representatives of the people, influenced by the mis- 
representations of his enemies, or jealous of the young 
Corsican, whose rapid advancement astonished them 
ordered the arrest which resulted in this humiliation ; 
and had it occurred a few weeks earlier, would doubt- 

* The new calendar formed October, 1793, upon the abolition of 
the Christian Register, divided the year into twelve months of thirty 
days each, succeeded by five complemental days. The names of the 
months are taken from the seasons. In the Spring, were Germineal, 
Florial, and Prarial; in the Summer, Messidor, 2'hermidor, and 
Fructidor ; in the Autumn, Vendimiere, Brarmiire, and Frumiare ; in 
the Winter, Nivose. Pluviose. and Ventose. 



104 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

less have added him to the myriads despatched by the 
guillotine. Here the months passed away ; the youth- 
ful officer frequenting the theatres, and moving quiet- 
ly among the busy crowds that thronged the Capital, 
scarcely arrested their attention, much less the eye of 
beauty; while his restless spirit chafed against his in- 
activity, like the captive eagle upon the iron grate that 
confines his free pinions. But his generous impulses 
found culture in relieving the pitiful groups that cross- 
ed his daily paths, and he often enlisted the sympa- 
thies of others for the wretched. 

Bonaparte's career up to this time had prepared him 
for his mission. In Corsica, he was cradled in the 
midst of political agitation, and hostile from his boyhood 
to the subjugation of the island, he became meditative 
and reserved, nourishing that self-reliance and indepen- 
dence of character, which made him at Brienne a 
sullen solitaire, and target of raillery to his fellow 
students. This strengthened his sublime decision of 
character, and quickened his keen observation of 
human nature, while it gave him that appearance o\ 
severity and contempt for man, which distinguished his 
manner when mingling with promiscuous society. 

He was at this date, twenty-six. The dark com- 
plexion of early years had worn off under the mild sky 
of France ; but a contagious disease he had taken 
at Toulon, from a soldier, and which penetrated his 
system with malignant power, so reduced his frame, 
that his flashing eye seemed set in the sockets of a 
skeleton. Yet his ambition was untamed, and he 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 105 

waited anxiously for an occasion which the convulsions 
of the country in their constantly changing aspect, in 
the following autumn presented. The Convention had 
lost favor with the multitude, and a new step was 
demanded in the march of revolution. A constitution 
was formed, securing a Directory of five, the execu- 
tive — a Council of five hundred, the House of Com- 
mons — and the Council of Ancients, answering to the 
English Peers. The Convention, unwilling to part 
with authority, made it a condition of acceptance, that 
the second division should include two thirds of their 
members. This excited the Parisians, especially the 
superior classes, who were indignant because it dis- 
closed an arbitrary and selfish tenacity of power 
With these insurrectionary sections, the National 
Guard united, and the forces prepared to attack the 
Tuilleries, and compel the assembly to meet the wishes 
of the majority, and change their measures. With five 
hundred regular troops, and the remnant of Robes 
pierre's ruffian army, the Convention prepared to 
resist the onset. Menou assumed the command, and 
failed to fill the perilous position. While his indecision 
alarmed the body still in session, Barras exclaimed, as 
if a sudden revelation had aroused him, " I have the 
man whom you want : it is a little Corsican officer, 
who will not stand upon ceremony." This expres- 
sion determined the destiny of Napoleon. He was 
soon in command, and the 13th Vendemiare, (October 
5th,) planted his cannon at the cross-streets and bridges, 
sweeping with his hail of death the advancing cohimns 



106 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

of the insurgents, till the pavements were covered 
with the slain, and the flame of rebellion extinguished 
in blood. The new order of things was established, 
and Barras, the presiding spirit, obtained for Bonaparte 
the generalship of the Army of the Interior, and the 
office of commandant of Paris. He was now no 
longer a unit among the many, but the military chief- 
tain of a kingdom. Charged with the work of disarm- 
ing the conquered citizens, he obtained the sword of 
the Viscount De Beauharnais, a blade its mouldering 
possessor never dishonored. Eugene, in his boyish 
enthusiasm, resolved to have the weapon wielded by a 
father he loved and lamented. Presenting himself to 
Napoleon, he made his request — the General was struck 
with his earnestness and manly bearing, and restored 
the relic, which he bore away bathed with tears. The 
next day Josephine called at the commandant's head- 
quarters, to thank him in person for his kindness. 
This increased the interest Napoleon had entertained 
for her since through the friendship of Barras he 
formed her acquaintance in the social circles of Paris. 
It is related that before he indulged serious intentions 
of marrying Madam Beauharnais, he ofl?ered himself to 
Madam De Permon, an old family friend, and an 
interesting widow, but was rejected. However this 
may be, he was deeply smitten with the charms of the 
lovely woman, whose son had given assurance of her 
excellent qualities in his own admirable behavior. 
The increasing attachment was every way favorable to 
ISTapoleon's plans and advancement, but subject of 



LIFJE OF JOSEPHINE. 107 

painful solicitude to her, which is well expressed in a 
letter of some length, affording also farther insight into 
a heart, cultivated no less than her genius. 

" My dear friend, I am urged to nriarry again : mj 
friends counsel the measure, my aunt almost lays hei 
injunctions to the same effect, and my children entreat 
my compliance. Why are you not here to give me 
your advice in this important conjuncture ? to per- 
suade me that I ought to consent to a union which 
must put an end to the irksomeness of my present 
position ? Your friendship, in which I have already 
experienced so much to praise, would render you 
clear-sighted for my interests ; and I should decide 
without hesitation as soon as you had spoken. You 
have met General Bonaparte in my house. Well ! — he 
it is who would supply a father's place to the orphans 
of Alexander de Beauharnais, and a husband's to his 
widow. 

" ' Do you love him ?' you will ask. Not exactly. 
* You then dislike him ?' Not quite so bad ; but I find 
myself in that state of indifference which is anything 
but agreeable, and which to devotees in religion gives 
more trouble than all their other peccadilloes. Love, 
being a species of worship, also requires that one feel 
very differently from all this; and hence the need 1 
have of your advice, which might fix the perpetual 
irresolution of my feeble character. To assume a de- 
termination has ever appeared fatiguing to my Creole 
supineness, which finds it infinitely more convenient to 

follow the will of others. 

E* 



108 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

" I admire the general's courage — the extent of his 
information, for on all subjects he talks equally well — 
and the quickness of his judgment, which enables him 
to seize the thoughts of others almost before they are 
expressed ; but, I confess it, I shrink from the despotism 
he seems desirous of exercising over all who approach 
him. His searching glance has something singular and 
inexplicable, which imposes even on our Directors : 
judge if it may not intimidate a woman ! Even, what 
ought to please me, the force of a passion, described 
with an energy that leaves not a doubt of his sincerity, 
is precisely the cause which arrests the consent I am 
often on the point of pronouncing. 

" Being now past the heyday of youth, can I hope 
long to preserve that ardor of attachment which, in the 
general, resembles a fit of delirium ? If, after our 
union, he should cease to love me, will he not reproach 
me with what he will have sacrificed for my sake ? — 
will he not regret a more brilliant marriage which he 
might have contracted ? What shall I then reply ? — 
what shall I do ? I shall weep. Excellent resource ! 
you will say. Good heavens ! I know that all this can 
serve no end ; but it has ever been thus ; tears are the 
only resources left me when this poor heart, so easily 
chilled, has suffered. Write quickly, and do not fear 
to scold me, should you judge that I am wrong. You 
know that whatever comes from your pen will be taken 
in good part. 

" Barras gives assurance, that if I marry the general, 
he will so contrive as to have him appointed to the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 109 

command of the army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte, 
speaking of this favor, which already excites murmur- 
ing among his fellow-soldiers, though it be as yet only 
a promise, said to me, ' Think they then, I have need 
of their protection to arrive at power? Egregious 
mistake ! They will all be but too happy one day 
should I condescend to grant them mine. My sword 
is by my side, and with it I will go far.' 

" What say you to this security of success ? is it not 
a proof of confidence springing from an excess of van- 
ity ? A general of brigade pi'otect the heads of 
government ! That, truly, is an event highly proba- 
ble ! I know not how it is, but sometimes this way- 
wardness gains upon me to such a degree, that almost 
I believe possible whatever this singular man may take 
it into his head to attempt ; and with his imagination, 
who can calculate what he will not undertake ? 

" Here we all regret you, and console ourselves for 
your prolonged absence only by thinking of you every 
minute, and by endeavoring to follow you step by step 
through the beautiful country you are now traversing. 
Were I sure of meeting you in Italy, I would get mar- 
ried to-morrow, upon condition of following the gen- 
eral ; but we might perhaps cross each other on the 
route ; thus I deem it more prudent to wait for your 
reply before taking my determination. Speed, then, 
your answer — and your return still more. 

" Madam Tallien gives me in commission to tell you, 
that she loves you tenderly. She is always beautiful 
and good ; employing her immense influence only to 



110 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

obtain pardon for the unfortunate who address them- 
selves to her ; and adding to her acquiescence an air of 
satisfaction, which gives her the appearance of being 
the person obliged. Her friendship for me is ingenuous 
and affectionate. I assure you that the love I bear tow- 
ards her resembles my affection for you. This will give' 
you an idea of the attachment I feel for her. Hortense 
becomes more and more amiable; her charming figure 
develops itself; and I should have fitting occasion, if 
so inclined, to make troublesome reflections upon vil- 
lanous Time, which merely adorns one at the expense 
of another. Happily, I have got quite a different 
crotchet in my head at present, and skip all dismals in 
order to occupy my thoughts solely with a future 
which promises to be happy, since we shall soon be re- 
united, never again to be separated. Were it not for 
this marriage, which puts me out, I should, despite of 
all, be gay ; but while it remains to be disposed of, 1 
shall torment myself; once concluded, co??ze what may, 
1 shall be resigned. I am habituated to suffering ; and 
if destined to fresh sorrows, I think I can endure them, 
provided my children, my aunt, and you were spared 
me. We have agreed to cut short the conclusions of 
our letters, so adieu, my friend." 

It is very apparent, that Josephine was more deeply 
interested in her admirer than she would have her 
friend believe ; and asking counsel, was only declaring 
both her passion and intention to marry. The months 
departed, and Napoleon, though environed with duties 
which attended his appointment, retired at evening to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIISTE. Ill 

the mansion of Madam Beauharnais, to hear the mel- 
ody of her voice, and enjoy an interlude of romantic 
pleasure, amid the stormy scenes that opened before 
his feet the path of glory. With a few select friends, 
among whom Madam TalHen was conspicuous, there 
were frequent meetings of the parties, and brilHant 
entertainments, which extended the friendship and in- 
fluence of the commander-in-chief, among the very 
class the most available in carrying forward his am- 
bitious schemes ; already towering above Alpine sum- 
mits, and embracing thrones which had withstood the 
flow of centuries. 

Josephine has left her testimony respecting the fine 
conversational powers of her lover — which is proof of 
his ability in this department, whenever he chose to in- 
dulge the abandon of wit and compliment in the so- 
ciety of women, for whom, it is well know^n, he enter- 
tained but a light opinion ; owing doubtless to the 
frivolous character and easy virtue of the majority of 
those he met in the gay society of the metropolis. 

The spring-time spread beauty again over the val- 
leys of unhappy France, while the tocsin of war fell on 
the eager ear of Napoleon. How the waving foliage 
nourished by the decaying dead, the bending sky, and 
the harmonies of nature filling it, mocked the mourn- 
ful dwellings and breaking hearts, whose trampled 
vineyards were a symbol of what madness had wrought, 
and an index of future desolation by the shock of con- 
tending armies ! But Napoleon listened only to the 
ravishing tones of love, and the sweeter notes of fame's 



112 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

shrill trumpet ; for his pulse never beat so wildly with 
hope and enthusiasm before. 

■ He led Josephine to the altar according to revolu- 
tionary form, which was a simple presentation before 
the proper magistrate, March 9th, 1796. Barras and 
Tallien witnessed the ceremony, and signed with Le- 
marois, an aid-de-camp, and Calmelet, a lawyer, the act 
recorded. in the state register of Paris. 

Twelve days later he bade adieu to his bride and 
was on his way to the plains of Italy — a parting that 
blended in one tide of strong emotion, the affection of 
an ardent, impetuous spirit, and the glowing desire to 
encircle his brow with laurels, that 

" would burn 



And rend his temples in return ;" 

and which would prove a crown of Upas to the fair 
forehead of the sorrowful Josephine. After a hasty 
visit with his mother, at Marseilles, of whom he always 
spoke with tender regard, he joined the suffering army 
at Nice. He rallied the drooping courage of brave 
men, and his accents caught with a resurrection power 
the ear of Augereau, Massena, and Lannes, veterans 
in service, but disheartened by ranks of unclad and 
hungry soldiers. He pointed to the opulent cities and 
beautiful fields beneath the shadow of the Alps which 
lay between them and his fifty thousand starving war 
riors, and disclosed with cheerful assurance, the pro- 
ject of crossing the cloud-mantled barrier. His suc- 
cessful march — his splendid victories, and his terrific 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 113 

devastation, are familiar to all readers of history. The 
national standard, within a year, waved along the 
niountain defiles which had sheltered the flower of the 
Austrian army, and over plains on which the disciplin- 
ed columns had encamped securely ; while the name 
of Napoleon was heard from one side of the continent 
to the other. 

But his heart was true to Josephine, and turned from 
the spoils of victory and applause of millions, to meet 
the smile of her approval, and hear in fancy her accents 
of congratulation and love. Of the correspondence 
which passed during these stirring events, but little 
which is authentic, is preserved. The extravagant 
letters attributed to him, are doubted by judicious biog 
raphers, because so unlike his previous and subse- 
quent communications, in the fulsome adulation, and 
approach at least, to bombast, for which they are dis- 
tinguished. But it were not strange if at twenty-six, 
with a distant bride he had left so quickly, and covered 
with glory that would bewilder an aged conqueror, he 
did pour his raptures in language whose extravagance 
seems now the fond ravings of a happy lunatic, rather 
than the utterance of an intellect well poised as it was 
creative and mighty. 

Eugene soon joined his father-in-law, in the cam- 
paign, and won distinction for himself, grateful to Na- 
poleon as it was flattering to the young soldier. This 
will appear in the subjoined notes originally furnished 
by Josephine . — 



114 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



FROM GENERAL BONAPARTE TO HIS WIFE. 

" My beloved friend, — My first laurel is due to my 
country ; my second shall be yours. While pressing 
Alvinzi, I thought of France ; when he was beaten, I 
thought of you. Your son will send you a scarf sur- 
rendered to him by Colonel Morback, whom he took 
prisoner with his own hand. You see, madam, that 
our Eugene is worthy of his father. Do not deem me 
altogether unbeserving of having succeeded to that 
brave and unfortunate general, under whom I should 
have felt honored to have learned to conquer. I em- 
brace you. Bonaparte." 

The brevity and delicacy of feeling which are no- 
ticeable in the above, are in pleasant contrast with the 
effusion of the delighted and affectionate son, flushed 
with honors, and impatient for a wider field of action 

FROM COLONEL EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS TO HIS MOTHER. 

" My DEAR AND RESPECTED MOTHER, — Detained at 
Lyons by business, I cannot resist my impatience to 
commune with you. I have been so fortunate as to 
perform, under the eye of General Bonaparte, an ac- 
tion which obtained his approbation, and has inspired 
me with a more honorable opinion of myself. In ta- 
king prisoner an Austrian lieutenant-colonel, I thought 
of my father ; I was seen by the general, and felt con- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 115 

scions that you would applaud me. What motives to 
serve one's country ! These encouragements will at 
all times be the same, and they will ever possess the 
same influence over my heart. Hang up the scarf in 
your cabhiet, under the portrait of my father, to whom, 
with you, I render this homage. As to the one woven 
and given me by Hortense, tell her it shall not easily 
be taken from the wearer. We intend to make the 
Austrians very prodigals in this respect, but are all re- 
solved to continue towards them the same niggards as 
heretofore ! 

" Farewell, my good and gracious mother ! Eight 
days hence and my noble gray shall be put to his 
mettle, as if with a bound I could place myself at your 
feet." 

Bourrienne, who admired the handsome colonel, 
wrote the following complimentary passage concerning 
him, then in his seventeenth year. " Eugene had an 
excellent heart, a manly courage, a prepossessing ex- 
terior, with an obliging and amiable temper. His life 
is a matter of history ; and those who knew him will 
agree that his maturer years did not disappoint the 
promise of his youth. Already he displayed the cour- 
age of a soldier, and at a later period evinced the 
talent of a statesman." 

Napoleon having concluded the preliminaries of 
peace at Leoben, passed rapidly through the Vene^ 
tian States to Milan, and fixed his residence at Mon- 
tebello, a delightful country-seat six miles from that 
city. Here Josephine, -having arrived from Paris 
8 ^ 



116 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

began to enjoy what circumstances had hitherto denied 
her since her second marriage, the tranquillity and joy 
of home. She won the affection and homage of the 
gay Milanese ; many lavished upon her attentions ex- 
pressive of gratitude to the victor, vv^hom.they regarded 
as their liberator. Thus from pure admiration or 
motives of policy, all classes sought with enthusiasm 
to honor the wife of Napoleon, and enhance the pleas- 
ures of her sojourn among the romantic scenery of 
that country — whose southern boundary was beautiful 
and fallen Italy. 

But she soon became weary of the pomp and cere- 
mony of what was to her, except in name, a splendid 
court. Balls and the drama, fetes and concerts, which 
she felt obliged to grace with her presence, were to her 
imaginative and sensitive nature the tiresome whirl of 
' a dazzling panorama of vanishing views, and she longed 
for more elevated communion. She therefore went 
forth, and under a sky, which bent lovingly over her 
as when she was the charming Creole of Martinique, 
and looked upon the glorious summits, and unrivalled 
lakes that slept in their embrace. Her excursions to 
^.he Apennines, Lake Como, and especially to Lake 
ifaggiore, afforded her refreshment of spirit and of 
frame. On the latter clear expanse repose the Borro- 
mean Islands, celebrated by Tasso and Ariosto, in 
glowing language. These lie in a gulf ornamented 
with tasteful dwellings and terraced gardens, with the 
orange, citron and myrtle to lend shade and beauty 
to the esplanade. In the distance the Alps lift their 



LIFE OF J0SEPHIIO^ 11 7 

solemn brows into the azure, girdled with cultivated 
fields, mantling foliage, and glittering with ice-plains, 
that flash in the sunlight, like a motionless sea of dia- 
monds. On the other side is the open country, covered 
with vineyards, dotted with villages and cities, and 
presenting all the variety of picturesque landscape so 
attractive to the traveller in southern Europe. Jose- 
phine stood here entranced, like the Peri of this para- 
dise. At her feet lay the crystal waters, reflecting the 
green slopes, the mansions of wealth, and the wander- 
ing clouds ; while the white wings of distant sail boats 
passed each other on the bright undulations. Napoleon 
loved this resort, where the grand and beautiful en- 
circled him, invested with associations of the glory of 
a former age. His expanding genius, and soaring am- 
bition, were pleased with scenes that embellished the 
majestic heights guarding the land of his victories, and 
which were silent exponents of his own dawning great- 
ness. Even in his social intercourse he manifested a 
consciousness of superiority — an isolation of character, 
in avoiding a disclosure of his purposes and feelings, 
w^hile his penetrating glance and admirable tact drew 
from others their very shade of changing thought. 
Josephine complains of this restless independence and 
distrust, which withheld from her the unrestrained in- 
tercourse of confiding affection. There was in her a 
transparent candor and lively sympathy, Napoleon 
doubtless feared ; for secrecy he wxll knew was his 
only security, while his movements which had the 
stamp of destiny, were under the inspection of a legion 



118 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of powerful foes. And there is always connected with 
great genius an egoism, as the Germans term this self- 
reliance and irritability, which are unfavorable either 
to friendships or domestic felicity. But far as any ob- 
ject besides the sceptre of the world could reign over 
his heart, Josephine had control, and was cherished in 
moments of rest from his stupendous plans, with the 
fondness of early attachment. He was exceedingly 
kind to her son and daughtei^ both in correspondence, 
and projecting their advancement and happiness, in 
proportion to his own exaltation and resources of use- 
fulness to friends. He was not destitute of deep emo- 
tion — nor a stranger to the better feelings of our nature; 
and yet there was ever a conflict between these and 
the attainment of his chief good — the unquestioned 
pre-eminence of power which should overshadow a 
continent at least — a principle of action that, in its 
legitimate result, would, if possible, map out the heavens, 
and give away to his favorites, the stars. 

One little incident illustrates his regard for his wife 
amid the stirring events that heralded his name, and 
betrays the same superstitious faith in omens she 
cherished. Isaby, a celebrated artist, painted a minia- 
ture of Josephine at the time of her marriage, which 
he constantly wore near his heart, in the feverish 
repose of his tent, and in the smoke of battle. When 
ihe war-cloud rolled away from the bed of the slain, 
jind the shout of victory drowned the groans of the 
dying, with the pause of joy that succeeded to the con- 
flict, he not unfrequently drew forth this talisman of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 119 

his purest hopes and most rational delight, and theri 
hastened to comnaunicate the tidings of conquest to the 
original ; in which the expression once occurs, " In the 
contest I think of France, afterward of you.'' By some 
accident it happened that the glass covering the picture 
was broken, and immediately the presentiment awa- 
kened that Josephine was dead — a solicitude which was 
calmed only with the return of a courier sent to learn 
if she were among the living. 

When about quitting Milan for Rastadt, he presented 
a flag to the Directory by General Joubert, the mes- 
senger appointed for the occasion, on* one side of which 
was the inscription, " To the army of Italy, the grateful 
country ;" on the other a condensed, yet ambitious 
bulletin of his campaign : " One hundred and fifteen 
thousand prisoners ; one hundred and seventy stand- 
ards ; five hundred and fifty pieces of batterinj;^ can- 
non ; six hundred pieces of field artillery ; five bridge 
equipages ; nine sixty-four gun ships ; twelve thirty- 
two gun frigates ; twelve corvettes ; eighteen galleys ; 
armistice with the King of Sardinia; convention w^ith 
Genoa ; armistice with the Duke of Parma ; armistice 
with the King of Naples ; armistice with the Pope ; 
preliminaries of Leoben ; convention of Montebello 
with the republic of Genoa ; treaty of peace with the 
Emperor at Campo-Formio. 

" Liberty given to the people of Bologna, Ferrara, 
Modena, Massa-Carrara, La Romagna, Lombardy, 
Bressera, Bormio, the Valletina, the Genoese, the Im- 
perial Fiefs, the people of the departments of Coreigra, 



120 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of the iEgean Sea, and of Ithaca. ' Sent to Paris all 
the master-pieces of Michael Angelo, of Genercino, of 
Titian, of Paul Veronese, of Correggio, of Albano, of 
Carracei, of Raphael, and of Leonardo da Vinci,' " 

But the Directory were, in return for his success, 
envious of his popularity, which with the word Liberty, 
was traversing the valleys, and echoing among the 
snow-crowned tops of the Alps and Apennines, and 
annoyed both himself and Josephine by the subtle 
vigilance of spies ; whose presence failed to obtain 
from either, treasonable or unlawful aspirations, with 
which to check, Hy the interposition of authority, the 
splendid course of this hero, whose youthful promise 
was that of bearing at length the prize alone in the 
Olympic games of blood, whose honors Kings and 
Generals had struggled for, and alternately lost and 
won. 

Leaving Josephine and her family at Milan, he 
reached Mantua, celebrated the funeral of General 
Hoche, attended to the erection of a monument to the 
memory of Virgil, then amid the acclamations of the 
people marched toward Rastadt. In addition to the 
portrait given incidently in the preceding narration of 
Napoleon's personal appearance, an additional extract 
from a letter written at this time by an observer of the 
triumphal procession, is interesting, and has an air of 
fidelity in the description. 

" I beheld with deep interest and extreme attention 
that extraordinary man who has performed such great 
deeds, and about whom there is something which seems 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 121 

to indicate that his career is not yet terminated. J 
found him very hke his portrait, small in statm^e, thin, 
pale, with the air of fatigue, but not in ill health as has 
been reported. He appeared to me to listen with more 
abstraction than interest, as if occupied rather with 
what he was thinking of, than with what was said to 
him. There is great intelligence in his countenance, 
along with an expression of habitual meditation which 
reveals nothing of what is passing within. In that 
thinking head, in that daring mind, it is impossible not 
to suppose that some designs are engendering which 
shall have their influence on the destinies of Europe." 

Already despising the weakness of the Directory, 
Bonaparte was elated and encouraged by the enthu- 
siasm of the people in the cherished determination to 
overthrow the wretched government, soon as the blow 
could be decisively given. This it would seem was a 
reason for the family arrangement which fixed the 
residence of Josephine and her children indefinitely at 
Milan, while he returned to the Capital to mature his 
plans ; thus keeping them away from the centre of 
danger should there in the event of rupture be a recoil 
of the rulers he scorned, upon himself But there were 
restless, slanderous spirits, that ever haunt society, who, 
employed by Napoleon's brothers, in their jealousy of 
his wife's influence, were eager for an opportunity to 
ruin her peace and torment her illustrious companion. 
It was rumored that her stay in Milan, was induced by 
a desire to shine in its gay circles, and by her fascina- 
tion lead a train of princely admirers Though utterly 



122 LIFK OF JOSEPHIJSTE. 

false, it was the commencement of detraction and 
suspicion which poisoned the cup of pleasure and ap- 
plause. 

She was summoned to Paris, and the prelude to an- 
other long separation consequent upon the widening 
field of the Commander's victories, was evidently 
clouded with an interruption of domestic tranquillity, 
which but for the magic of her sincere devotion, in- 
spiring confidence and difiTusing a subduing kindness, 
might have deepened into the gloom of a sad eclipse. 

An invasion of England had been in contemplation 
by Bonaparte, but the opposition of the Directory 
foiled his designs, and his own observation of the haz- 
ard of the enterprise induced him to abandon it for 
another. In these schemes his noble wife did much 
in obtaining influential friends to aid him in securing 
their adop)tion. The expedition to Egypt was finally 
decided upon by the Directory, who were willing to 
place the envied general in a command that would 
remove him to a dangerous climate, and perhaps rid 
them altogether of his dreaded preeminence. He re- 
ceived his appointment April 12th, 1798, and with a 
troop of a hundred Savans, to gather antiquarian em- 
bellishments for the gallery of the Louvre, which he 
had already adorned by his contributions from the 
cabinets of Italy, and also to make scientific re- 
searches ; he hastened to Toulon to join his assem- 
bled army and magnificent fleet. 



CHAPTER y. 

DEPARTURE OF NAPOLEON FOR EGYPT. THE PARTING WITH JOSEPHINE Al 

TOULON. SHE RETIRES TO PLOMBIERES. ACCIDENT. SENDS FOR HOB- 
TENSE. EXCURSION HOME, RARE QUALITIES OF JOSEPHINE's CHARAC- 
TER. CONSEQUENCES OF HER CONFINEMENT AT PLOMBIERES. RUMORS 

OF napoleon's disasters IN EGYPT. MALMAISON. JOSEPHINE WATCHED 

BY SECRET ENEMIES. CHARGES OF INFIDELITY TRANSMITTED TO NAPO- 
LEON. HER INNOCENCE VINDICATED. MATERNAL SOLICITUDE AND FAITH- 
FULNESS. napoleon's return TO FRANCE. UNFORTUNATE MISTAKE.— 

HIS ANGER. THE RECONCILIATION. FRANCE. 

On the 19th of May, the winds having driven his 
watchful enemy, Nelson, off the coast, Napoleon or- 
dered a hurried embarkation of his troops ; the anchors 
were lifted and the squadron moved out of the harbor 
beneath the splendor of the rising sun. . For six leagues 
along the Mediterranean shore, the grand armament in 
the form of a semicircle, unfurled its thousand snowy 
wings, and threw upon the breeze its gay streamers ; 
while the uniform of forty thousand "picked soldiers,'* 
reflected the unclouded beams of the ascending orb 
Josephine, who accompanied the General-in-chief to 
Toulon, extorting a promise of permission to follow 
soon his fortunes in the East, gazed with a full heart 
upon the dazzling pageant. Amid all the magnificence 
of the spectacle, her eye followed alone the L'Orient, 
which bore a husband and son, whose farewell embrace 

still thrilled her sensitive frame, till its tall mast became 

F 



124 LIFE OF JOSEPHIISnB. 

a speck in the distance, and vanished like departing 
hope from her tearful gaze, beneath the horizon's rim. 
Yet there was the possibility of meeting her husband in 
accordance with the assurance given, among the ruins 
of Memphis and Thebes, which restored the dreams of 
a calmer, brighter future. She had a soul that soared 
like the sky-lark when the storm is past, and breathed 
the gentlest music of love, in the ear of whoever would 
listen. It was eminently her experience, that 

" Even throuarh the sho"wer 



Of tear-drops on life's way, 
The rainbow promises of hope 
Will dance, and make us gay." 

She retired to Plombieres, celebrated for its springs, 
whose waters it w^as thought might give that tone of 
perfect health to her system, Napoleon ambitiously 
desired for the transmission of his accumulating honors, 
and which she sought ardently for his sake. It was 
arranged that she should remain there until the arrival 
of the frigate from Egypt to convey her thither. But 
a melancholy accident again darkly overshadowed her 
prospects, and lengthened her stay into a captivity of 
several months. The scene is thus described by a 
biographer. 

"Madam Bonaparte, a few days after her arrival, 
w^as sitting one morning in the saloon at work, and 
conversing with the ladies of her society, among whom 
were Mesdames De Crigny, afterward married to the 
celebrated Denon, and De Cambes. The latter, who 
was in the balcony entertaining the party with what 



LIFE OP JOSEPHLNE. 126 

passed in the street, expressed great admiration of a 
beautiful little dog which she observed below. Upon 
this, all eagerly rushed upon the balcony, which came 
down with a fearful crash. Happily, no lives were 
lost ; but the unfortunate individual who had been the 
innocent cause of the accident had her thigh-bone 
fractured, and Josephine herself was grievously bruised. 
The contusions on her hands and arms were so severe 
that for some time she had to be fed like an infant. 
Charvet, afterward steward of the household, who was 
at this time principal male domestic, happening to be in 
a room immediately above, hastened to the assistance 
of his mistress, and by his direction a sheep was 
instantly killed, and Madam Bonaparte wrapped up in 
the hide yet warm from the animal. By this simple 
remedy, not only was the present pain allayed, but a 
preparation made for more scientific and fortunately 
successful treatment." 

Hortense was at Germain-en- Laye, a pupil in the 
boarding school of Madam Campan ; where she was 
admired for a character which combined with amia- 
bility, a dash of that independence of feeling and 
action, always exhibited by her lamented father. Mes- 
sengers were sent to bring her to Plombieres to enliven 
the solitude of Josephine ; tidings that made her young 
heart bound with rapture. Though succef.3ful in 
scholarship, her laugh rang out as she cast as-de her 
books, or turned from the prison of girlhood, lo the 
shaded lawn and the carriage waiting at the gate, for a 
ride into the beautiful country with its free air and 



126 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

music — and toward the being upon whose bosom her 
affections set in an unbroken tide. Among the anec- 
dotes related of this excursion is the following : While 
lazily travelling through one of those dark forests dis- 
tinguished for wild traditions and tragical robberies, 
her companions, in musing mood, had fallen into a 
dreamy semi-somnolence, when a startling report sud- 
denly aroused them ; with alarm they gazed into the 
shadowy twilight to behold the armed brigands. But 
fragrant drops flooding the perspiration excited by fear, 
and a merry shout, dispelled the bewildering apprehen- 
sion. Hortense had exploded a bottle of champaign 
in the faces of the sleepers, and its foam instead of 
burning powder discolored their pallid features. Then 
the old woods gave back the echoes of mirth, and the 
very wheels seemed to revolve more rapidly to accord 
with the ringing gladness. And when she was clasped 
in a mother's embrace, the same silver tones repeated 
her name, and a full fountain poured tears of joy upon 
the fair forehead whose marble was mantling with the' 
glow of returning health. 

There is no aspect of Josephine's history which fails 
to display the fine outline of a pure-minded and re- 
markable woman. Though her emotions were strong 
and intense, her clear judgment shone upon every 
emergency, and in the performance of every duty. In 
the education of her own and other children— in direct- 
ing the affairs of Napoleon's domestic relations, there 
was that rapid survey of the various responsibilities 
imposed, and decision in doing, which the great Chief- 



LIFE OF JOSLil'MlNE. 127 

tain so sublimely manifested on the vast battle-field 
of nations. A single letter will shed additional light 
on this peculiar excellence, written relative to the 
discipline of a niece also under Madam Campan — 
while it contains valuable suggestions for the consid- 
eration of youth : — 

" My Dear Madam Campan — ^With my niece whom 
I return to your charge, receive also my thanks and 
my reproof. The former are due for the great care 
and brilliant education which you have bestowed upon 
the child ; the latter for the faults which your sagacity 
must have discovered, but which your indulgence has 
tolerated. The girl is gentle, but shy ; well informed, 
but haughty ; talented, but thoughtless ; she does not 
please, and takes no pains to render herself agreeable. 
She conceives that the reputation of her uncle and the 
bravery of her father are everything. Teach her, and 
that by the severest means, how absolutely unavailing 
are those qualities which are not personal. We live in 
an age where each is the author of his own fortunes ; 
and if those who serve the state in the first ranks oup-ht 
to have some advantages and enjoy some privileges, 
they should on that account strive only to render 
themselves more beloved and more useful. It is solely 
by acting thus that they can have some chance of 
excusing their good fortune in the eyes of envy. Of 
these things, my dear Madam Campan, you must not 
allow my niece to remain ignorant, and such are the 
instructions which in my name you should repeat to 
her constantly. It is my pleasure that she treat as 



128 LIFE OP JOSEPHIISTE. 

equals every one of her companions, most of whom are 
better or as good as herself, their only inferiority con- 
sisting in not having relations so able or so fortunate. 
The impressive fact that an unexpected and regret- 
ted occurrence is often the pivot on which life and des- 
tiny turn, is apparent in the annals of distinguished as 
well as humble individuals. An invisible hand is seen 
in these transactions which change the direction of 
events influencing personal existence forever, and 
affecting sometimes the interests of an empire, and of 
the world. The frigate Pomona, which was to convey 
Josephine to the Pyramids, and had before borne her 
from her native island to France, fell into the hands of 
the English ; and had she taken passage at the time 
proposed, she would have been carried a captive to 
England — ^changing the condition of things entirely 
with her, and perhaps indirectly the struggle with a 
haughty realm, whose prowess at length crushed the 
arbiter of Kingly quarrels and the almoner of thrones 
Napoleon's triumphs followed by terrible reverses, 
which brought his army to the brink of ruin, gave rise 
to rumors of his defeat, and even assassination, that 
tortured the heart of Josephine with suspense. She is 
said to have overheard one day, Le Tour of the Di- 
rectory, remark, " That is the wife of that scoundrel 
Bonaparte : if he is not dead for Europe, he is, at least, 
for France." Many of her former friends during this 
period of disaster, were less attentive ; an indication 
of faithlessness which her disinterested spirit felt keen- 
ly as the point of a traitor's weapon among 4he nerves 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 129 

of her delicate form. She purchased Mahnaison, and 
quietly spent the subsequent months of Bonaparte's ab- 
sence — " exiled in her own domain." 

These estates antecedently belonged to the national 
lands, whose rural beauty and picturesque views at- 
tracted the admiration of Josephine soon after the 
death of Beauharnais, when anxious to secure a her- 
mitage for herself and a refuge for her children. By 
the intervention of her unfailing friend, Barras, the re- 
formed terrorist, who had obtained a restoration in 
part of the Viscount's property, she nearly completed 
the purchase, when a new phase of revolution, and his 
earnest persuasion, made her the wife of Napoleon. 
Her indebtedness to this influential Director, and the 
grateful acknowledgment which flowed spontaneously 
when kindness was experienced, are expressed in he ■ 
own sensible and simple style, in a note written to 
him, while negotiating for a title to this attractive 
country residence. 



" TO CITIZEN BARRAS, 
" Member of the Executive Directory. 

" Sir, — Nothing could be more agreeable than the 
statement in your letter; yet few things could have 
less surprised me. I know your influence, and more 
especially your zeal. I felt assured of your interest ; 
and was not less confident of your success. Thus I 
find myself certain of possessing a refuge; and, thanks 
to the benevolence whose delicacy enhances the bene- 



130 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

fit, that asylum accords with my wishes. There I can 
resign my heart to its tastes — tastes peaceful and pure 
— which in the days of prosperity I cultivated through 
caprice or from fashion, but which I now cherish from 
predilection. With them I have also inspired my 
children : in these they have already experienced the 
amusement of their early years, and there they will 
continue to seek the enjoyment of maturer age. Heirs 
of a proscribed sire, modesty and obscurity suit both 
their desires and their condition. The way of life 
upon which we are to enter at Malmaison befits in all 
respects our inclinations and situation; and, notwith- 
standing immense losses, if the father of my children 
survived, I should not have a single wish to form. 
But had he lived, should I have known you ? should I 
have been unfortunate ? or Should I have experienced 
how much benevolence may soothe the unhappy ? 
Each situation of life must be taken with all its 
chances ; the most painful may thus, perhaps, still ex- 
hibit something favorable, and of that, good sense con- 
sists in making the most. It is easy, will be the re- 
mark, to talk thus, when passion no longer agitates. I 
have undergone the ordeal — a course of suffering, 
when for many months, I could not even conceive one 
day of gladness. I had then only a choice of mis- 
fortunes. I believe them passed ; and what you are 
now doing for me renews my life. In devoting it to 
solitude, to study, and to the education of my children, 
I shall consecrate it to our tranquil happiness and to 
our unalterable gratitude." 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 131 

But the years that were anticipated with subdued 
feeUng, as devoted to seclusion, had gone full of aston- 
ishing change, bringing her forward upon the fore- 
ground of a drama, that riveted the observation o1 
man wherever the radiating lines of communication 
carried the bulletin of European war. And now ex- 
pecting the return of Napoleon, who had gained and 
lost new laurels beneath the frown of the pyramids 
and of consecrated Tabor, dipped in the blood of the 
brave Mamelukes, Egypt's best forces, and the deci- 
mated ranks of the " Army of the East" — Josephine 
resolved lo prepare a home for the fugitive chieftain. 
whom she had learned to love for his own sake, how- 
ever her woman's pride may have been flattered by 
the splendor of his renov/n. She therefore embellish- 
ed Malmaison with reference to his taste, and lived irt 
the enjoyment of a select society, embracing members 
of the Directory, over whom her influence was always 
in behalf of the proscribed and unfortunate, impa- 
tiently awaiting his arrival to the shores of France. 
But vigilant foes haunted the mansion of persecuted 
innocence, to fabricate reports unfavorable to her 
fidelity, with which to inflame the jealousy of her im- 
perious husband. The Bonaparte family were leagued 
against her, and every circumstance that would admit 
of doubtful import touching her virtue, was carefully 
recorded for the deadly thrust at her reputation. The 
difficulty of transmitting letters gave her no opportu- 
nity to make a defence against the accusations that 

reached l^apoleon. She was of course under cruel 
9 ^'^ 



132 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

suspicion, while the energies of her intellect and graces 
of person were employed to keep unblemished his 
name, and prepare the way for advancing measures he 
suggested before his departure, or during the expedi- 
tion. The baseness of Junot affected her deeply, and 
she made a last appeal to the honor and sympathy of 
the ahenated sovereign of her heart, which ought to 
have moved the bitterest enemy to tenderness and rec- 
onciliation. 

JOSEPHINE TO GENERAL BONAPARTE. 

" Can it be possible, my friend ? is the letter indeed 
yours which I have just received ? Scarcely can I 
give it credence, on comparing the present with those 
' now before me, and to which your love gave so many 
charms ! My eyes cannot doubt that those pages 
which rend my heart are too surely yours; but my 
soul refuses to admit that yours could have dictated 
those lines, which, to the ardent joy experienced on 
hearing froiiLyou, have caused to succeed the mortal 
grief of reading the expressions of displeasure, the 
more afflicting to me that it must have proved a source 
of fearful pain to you. 

" I am wholly ignorant in what I can have offended, 
to create an enemy so determined to ruin my repose 
by interrupting yours ; but surely it must be a grave 
reason which can thus induce some one unceasingly 
to renew against me calumnies of such a specious 
nature as to be admitted, even for a moment, by one 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 133 

who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire affec- 
tion and confidence. These two sentiments are neces- 
sary to my happiness ; and if they were so speedily to 
be refused me, ah ! why was I ever made sensible of 
the delight of possessing them ? Far better would it 
have been for me never to have known you ! 

" When I first became acquainted with you, over- 
whelmed in sadness from the sorrows that had over- 
taken me, I believed it impossible that I should ever 
again feel a sentiment approaching to love. The 
scenes of blood I had witnessed, and whose victim I 
had been, pursued me everywhere. Such were the 
causes which prevented apprehension in often meeting 
you : little did I imagine that I could for a single in- 
stant fix your choice. As did all the world, I admired 
your genius and your talents : more truly than any 
other did I foresee your coming glory ; but notwith- 
standing all this I was unmoved — loving you only for 
the services you had rendered to my country. You 
should have left me to cherish this admiration, and not 
have sought to render it impassioned, by employing 
those means of pleasing, which you above all men pos- 
sess, if, so soon after having united your destiny to 
mine, you were to regret the felicity which you alone 
had taught me to enjoy. 

" Do you believe that it is possible for me ever to 
forget your cares and your love ? Think you I can 
ever become indifferent about one w^ho sweetens 
existence by all that is delightful in passion ? Can I 
ever efface from my memory your kindness to Hor- 



134 LIFE OP JOSEPHHO;. 

tense — your counsel and example to Eugene ? If this 
appear to you impossible, how can you suspect me of 
being interested for a single moment in what is alien 
to you ? 

" Oh ! my friend, in place of lending an ear to im- 
postors, who, from motives which I explain not, seek 
to ruin our happiness, why do you not rather reduce 
them to silence, by the recital of your benefits to a 
woman whose character has never incurred the sus- 
picion of ingratitude ? On hearing what you have 
done for my children, my traducers would be silent, 
since they must know that, as a mother, I first became 
attached to you. Since that event, so dear to my 
remembrance, your conduct, admired as it has been 
throughout the whole of Europe, has, in my heart, but 
awakened deeper admiration of the husband who made 
choice of me, poor as I was, and unhappy. Every 
step which you take adds to the splendor of the name 
I bear — and is such a moment seized to persuade you 
that I no longer love you ? What absurdity — or rather 
what vileness on the part of your companions, jealous 
as they are of your marked superiority. Yes, my 
friend, I love you with a sincerity known well, even to 
those who assert the contrary. They must be con- 
scious of wronging me, for several times I have written 
to them, in order thus to hear of you, to entreat them 
to watch over you, and by their affection to console 
you for the absence of your friend : finally, to keep 
me informed of everything connected with you. But 
how have these people acted, who pretend such devo- 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 135 

tion, in whom you confide, and according to whose 
report you judge me with inconceivable injustice? 
They conceal from you whatever might lessen the pain 
of absence ; they take advantage of your suspicious 
character, in order to create disquietudes that may in- 
duce you to quit a country which they detest ; and the 
more they irritate you, the better they are pleased. 
Such is the light in which things appear to me, while 
you ore deceived regarding their perfidious "ntentions. 
Believe me, my friend, so soon as you ceased to be 
their equal, you became their foe ; your victories even 
are but so many motives for their hating you. 

" I know these intrigues, although I disdain to 
avenge myself by naming men whom I despise, but 
whose valor and abilities may be useful to you in the 
grand enterprise so happily commenced. On your 
return I will disclose the secret, and show you who are 
those envious of your glory. But no — w^hen we are 
united once again, 1 shall forget all the evil which they 
would have wrought me, to remember only the exer- 
tions which they may have made in your service. 

" It is true, I see much company, for every one 
strives to be foremost in complimenting mje on your 
success, and I confess I have not the resolution to shut 
my door against any one who comes to speak of you. 
My male writers are very numerous ; they compre- 
hend vour daring achievements better than women ; 
.hey talk with enthusiasm of your noble deeds, while, 
at the same time, they cannot complain of your having 
taken with you their spouse, their brother, or their 



136 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

father. Women fall upon these subjects, and when 
they do not praise you, they do not please me. Still 
it is among my own sex that I can find those whose 
heart and understanding I prefer to all, because their 
friendship for you is sincere. Of these I place first the 
names of the accomphshed ladies D'Aiguillon, TaUien, 
and my aunt. These are my intimates— I never quit 
them — and they will tell you, ungrateful as thou art, if 
I have thought ' of playing the coquette with all the 
world.' These are your own expressions, and they 
would be odious to me, were I not certain that you 
have disavowed, and at this moment are sorry for 
having written them. 

" I tremble when I think of the dangers which sur- 
round you, of more than half of which I should be 
ignorant, did not Eugene reiterate his requests to me 
to write you not to expose yourself to perils, and to 
take more care of a life, not only dear to your family 
and your friends, but upon which hangs the destiny of 
your brethren in arms, and thousands of brave followers 
who could have courage to endure so many fatigues 
while under your eye alone. Let me conjure you, my 
friend, not to exceed your strength, and to listen less to 
your own daring than to the counsels of those who 
love you. Berthier, Bourrienne, Eugene, CafFarelli, 
less ardent, may also sometimes see more clearly. 
They are devoted to you ; listen, then, to them, hut to 
them only — you understand me ? — then both you and 
I will be happier. 

" Here I receive honors which sometimes cause me 



LIFE OF J0SEPHI2S:E. 137 

embarrassment. Besides, being little accusiomed to 
such homage, I see they displease our authorities, who, 
always distrustful and apprehensive of losing their 
power, are ever on the watch. Disregard these people, 
you will say ; but my friend, they will endeavor to 
hurt you : they will accuse you of seeking to lessen 
their power ; and I should be grieved to contribute in 
aught to a jealousy which your triumphs sufficiently 
justify. When you shall return covered with laurels, 
good heavens ! what will they do, if already they are 
on the rack ! I cannot calculate where their resent- 
ment will stop ; but then you will be by my side, and I 
shall feel secure. 

" Let us think no more of them, nor of your suspi- 
cions, which I will not refute one by one, because they 
are all equally devoid of probability. But to repose 
from disagreeables, let me conclude with some details 
which will interest you, because they affect me. 

" Hortense, that she may console me so far as de- 
pends upon her, employs all her little heart to conceal 
her fears on your account and her brother's, and puts 
in requisition all the resources of her mind, in order to 
dissipate that sadness — to you so dubious — which yet 
never leaves me. By her talent, and the charms of her 
conversation, she sometimes contrives to call up a 
smile, then, in her joy, she exclaims, 'Dear mamma, 
they shall know that in Cairo P Cairo ! the name 
instantly reminds me of the distance which separates 
me from my husband, and my son — and my grief 
returns. I am thus obliged, by great effort to dissemble 



138 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

with my daughter, who by a word — a look even — 
transports me to those scenes whence she would view 
my reflections. 

" In the graces of her person, Hortense improves 
daily ; she dresses with taste ; and certainly without 
being nearly so beautiful as your sisters, she could 
hardly fail to please even when they are present. My 
good aunt passes her life in suffering, without com- 
plaint, consoling the afflicted, talking to me of you, and 
making verses. As for me, I beguile the time in wri- 
ting to you, listening to your praises, or reading the 
journals where your name occurs in every page. I 
am ever thinking of you ; now transporting myself to 
the time when I shall see you every hour, now plunged 
in sorrow at the thoughts of the space which must 
elapse before you return ; and when I thus conclude, 
I again begin. Are these the signs of indiiference ? 
[ wish for none others on your part ; and if you feel 
thus for me, I shall not think myself altogether an 
object of pity, despite the small slanders which they 
would fain have me credit respecting a certain fair 
one, who, they tell me, interests you deeply. Why 
should I doubt you ? You assure me I am beloved. I 
judge of you by my own heart — and I beheve you. 

" God knows when or where this letter may reach 
you : may it restore to you a repose which you ought 
never to have foregone, and more than ever give you 
an assurance, that, while I live, you will be dear to me as 
on the day of our last separation. Farewell, my only 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 139 

friend .' Confide in me — love me, and receive a thou- 
sand tender caresses." 

It is not certain this kind expostulation was received 
by Bonaparte before he fled from the land of his mis- 
fortunes. It vi^as stated some years since in the pub- 
lished journal of a Baroness, that Josephine contempla- 
ted a divorce, and actually consulted M. de Cantalen 
of the administration, on the subject. Interruption of 
correspondence — inexcusable coolness — and credited 
reports of gallantries with the wife of a subordinate 
officer in Cairo — are the reasons which may be assigned, 
if such an event was desired by her, whose delicacy 
and devotion it strikes one, were in themselves an 
assurance that she would rather perish clinging to the 
wreck of her happiness, than make so daring an effort 
to escape with nothing but life. However this, at the 
susffestion of those with whom she conferred, the 
subject was speedily dismissed, if it had been entertained 
by her, and she strove to beguile the hours in decora- 
ting her new abode, cultivating flowers, bestowing 
kindnesses on the peasantry, and seizing every means 
to promote the pleasure and improvement of her chil- 
dren. An extract or two from a letter to Eugene 
gives a beautiful picture of the last occupation, in her 
allusions to Hortense. 

" It is impossible to give you an idea even of her 
amiableness in this respect, nor of half her affectionate 
contrivances to beguile us of our anxieties. Love her, 
my son, for she forms my consolation, and is devoted 
to you She continues her studies with great success, 



140 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

but music, I am inclined to believe, will prove the 
accomplishment in which she is destined to excel. 
Her agreeable voice, now much improved, and the 
style of her execution, will greatly surprise you. I 
have just purchased for her a piano, the excellence of 
which seems to have redoubled her passion for your 
favorite art — a preference probably not a littte con- 
tributing to your sister's predilection. 

" If vou were here, you would a hundred times a day 
advise me to take care of the men who offer attentions 
to Hortense, in a manner sufficiently marked. There 
are some very urgent in their addresses, who are no 
favorites of yours, and whom you apprehend she may 
prefer. Reassure yourself on that point ; she is some- 
what of a coquette, and enjoys her success by torment- 
ing her victims ; but her heart is free. I am the 
confidant of all her thoughts and sentiments ; these are 
ever as they should be. She knows that henceforth 
my consent alone will not suffice in the question of 
marriage, and that my wishes even will be determined 
by his to whom we owe all. This will guard her 
against any choice which would not be approved of by 
Bonaparte, and he will never bestow your sister's hand 
save on a brother-in-arms, as seems also to be your 
desire." 

But nothing could shield her devoted form from the 
blasts of adversity, which beat the more wildly after a 
flattering pause in their wrath. She was even accused 
of extravagance, and compelled to meet from the dis- 
tingue who were unweariedly attentive while the star 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 141 

of Napoleon was in the clear ascendant, cruel contempt 
soon as it passed under the wing of a cloud, as if it had 
fallen from heaven forever. Talleyrand stained his 
honor as a true gentleman in this particular, by a pub- 
lic expression of indifference at the mansion of Barras, 
just before Bonaparte trod again the soil of his adop- 
tion. The statesman little dreamed that the flying 
Corsican then on the solitary deep, would step so quick- 
ly on a shore which would rock to his very foot-fall as 
to the tramp of an earthquake. 

Gohier, President of the Directory, on the 9th of 
November, 1799, gave a splendid levee, embracing the 
noble and the beautiful of the Capital. Josephine was 
a guest, though more a spectator than participant in 
the festivity of the brilliant occasion. The gifted being 
to whom her tides of feeling in their deepest channel, 
however dark or shining their surface — however black 
or beaming the skies above — were as obedient as the 
sea to the changeful moon, was a wanderer among the 
dead and dying of his unrivalled army, or perhaps gaz- 
ing in vain upon the wide waters for a friendly bark to 
bear him away. The ample entertainment went for- 
ward — the viands disappeared, and the wine-cup be- 
came the inspiration of wit, and the pledge of affection. 
But while the converse of excited genius rang out in 
sparkling repartee, and beauty smiled, suddenly the eye 
of Gohier was arrested by a telegraphic line, which 
checked his gayety, and held the throng in suspense. 
With a serious air, he repeated the announcement — 
" Bonaparte landed this morning at Frejus." The 



142 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

strange silence of that startled assembly, was no less 
marked than when the first peal of a rising storm and 
its shadows cast before, hushes into stillness the amphi- 
theatre of nature, which rang with the music and glee 
of spring-time. 

There was a blending of vague apprehension, and 
wonder, and hope. The multitude, during his former 
campaigns, had begun to regard the rapid and almost 
miraculous exertions of that intellect, embodied in ac- 
tion that dwarfed all the great of antiquity into com- 
mon men, with mysterious awe ; and his unexpected 
appearance on the theatre he seemed to have deserted 
and lost, sent a wave of surprise and agitation over 
these rejoicing hearts, and with the morning light over 
millions more. 

Josephine rose upon hearing the intelligence, and 
with suppressed emotion whispered an adieu to those 
about her, and retired. Her design was instantly 
formed of meeting him on his way to Paris ; not only 
to hail his return, but efface from his mind a doubt of 
her fidelity, before it was graven more deeply by the 
enmity of those who envied her influence, and would 
rob her of her honors. Accompanied by Hortense, or 
as is affirmed by some writers, Louis Bonaparte, she 
hastened with the speed of a courier, toward Lyons. 
But the General had avoided the direct route she 
travelled, and passed her of course without the knowl- 
edge of either. Alarmed, she flew with all possible 
speed to the metropolis ; but she was too late — the hour 
of midnight which brought her to their city residence, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 143 

was one of desolating sorrow. Napoleon had found his 
home a solitude, and the impression, this unaccountable 
desertion, relieved only by the gathering members of 
the Bonaparte family, made upon his spirit stained with 
jealousy, and worn by the sufferings of his sad adven- 
ture, was fearful, and never forgotten. It is not strange 
the sobbing wife was sent without recognition to her 
apartment, to weep away the night in agony. There 
may be some apology for him in the fact that society 
in decay had weakened his faith in the morality of the 
elite, and his thorough knowledge of men rendered him 
sceptical whenever selt-interest was the stake, with re- 
gard to apparent innocence, or circumstantial evidence 
against deeds which his own experience assured him 
might tarnish the escutcheon of the renowned. His es- 
timate therefore of human nature was not high, for he 
found it a pliable thing beneath his moulding hand, and 
the multitude were his creatures, playing their part 
in his elevation to disguised royalty ; which like a dis- 
tant summit robed with cloud, was mistaken for some- 
thing that they admired, and towards which they were 
impatiently struggling, to find protection and repose. 

He sternly refused to see Josephine, who, with a 
bosom bleeding, waited the result of her children's elo- 
quence and tears. Two long, dreary days wore away 
— the wrathful deep of a mighty mind was tranquil 
again — and the gentle words of Hortense, and her 
swimming eye, with the manly yet touching entreaty 
of Eugene, restored the wonted tenderness of his better 
moods. He stole into her room, and found the wife of 



144 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

his youth in the attitude of inconsolable grief. Lean- 
ing upon the table, her face was buried in her hands — 
the warm tears were dropping from her delicate fingers 
upon the letters he had written in the fulness of affec- 
tion, while convulsive sobs alone disturbed the stillness. 
He gazed a moment, and with quivering lip, murmured 
" Josephine I" She looked up with her soul in the ex- 
pression, and reading in his pale countenance the evi- 
dence of a milder frame, said sweetlv, "mon ami!'' — 
the familiar language of love. He silently extended 
his hand, and she was once more weclomed to the em- 
brace and confidence of Napoleon. 

He now lived for the most part in retirement ; di- 
viding the hours between domestic society, and that 
profound contemplation with which he always matured 
his magnificent schemes. He valued, and cheerfully 
acknowledged the discriminating judgment and obser- 
vation of Josephine, both during his absence, in Egypt, 
and while enjoying that prelude to the eventful changes 
which soon after paved his way to a throne. 

He found France retrograding in every respect. 
The Congress of Rastadt had resulted in the assassina- 
tion of French plenipotentiaries, and open war. Su- 
warrow with his battalions had overswept Italy, and 
taken from him his miniature republics. On nearly all 
of the national boundaries the foe hung menacingly, 
glorying over the spoils of victory, and to complete the 
discord and danger, the Directory, distracted by the 
conflict of royalty with extreme republicanism, was 
the centralization of anarchy and imbecility rather 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 14H 

than of power and dignity. There was necessarily al- 
most universal discontent, and in place of appalling 
terrorism, poor France turned with disgust from the 
oppressive mockery of a Republic. 

" The sensual and the dark rebel in vain, 
Slaves by their own compulsion 1 in mad game 
They burst their manacles, and bsar the name 
Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain f 



CHAPTER VI. 

napoleon's di^sigv — Josephine's political views. — eugkne — convivtai: 

SCENES. THE 18tH BRUMAIKE. NAPOLEON FIRST CONSUL. THE RE- 
SULT. MURAT's MARRIAGE. HIS TREACHERY. JOSEPHINE's MEDITATION. 

life ixv the tuilleries. josephine. bonaparte. he orders the 

improvement of malmaison. escapes assassination. again crosses 

the alps. battle of marengo. relaxation at malmaison. — 

Josephine's benevolence. — conspiracy and the infernal machine 
marriage of hortense. character of louis bonaparte. per- 
son and character of hortense. incidents by the way. im- 
portant events. peace of amiens. gayety of the people. — 

home of the consul. renewal of hostilities with england. — 

ACCIDENT. napoleon's VIEW OF DEATH. 

France, as we have seen, was ripe for change. 
Napoleon was not only conscious of this, but found in 
the enthusiasm of the nation which hailed his landing 
at Frejus, where the very laws of quarantine w^ere set 
aside, and he was borne as the people's idol to the city, 
and which made his journey to the capital one scene 
of excitement and willing homage, that the popular 
feeling was moving towards him, and deliverance ex- 
pected from his genius and resistless force of char- 
acter. 

The overthrow of a government justly despised for 
its intrigues and failures in the fulfilment of pledges to 
the masses, and the welfare of the country, so far as at- 
tainable in connection with his exaltation upon its 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 147 

ruins, was now the purpose of this wonderful man, still 
in the maturity of youth. He first aspired to a seat in 
the Directory, where he could lay his hand upon that 
unwieldy engine of power, and give it the momentum 
of his own, in human affairs, omnipotent will, and the 
direction of his sublimely insatiate ambition. But his 
age interposed a hopeless barrier, besides the opposi- 
tion of those in office who hated him for his renown, 
and trembled at the mention of his name. Instead 
therefore of supplanting Sigas at the head of the Di- 
rectory, a reconciliation between these political foes 
was effected, and Napoleon resolved to use with his 
cautious policy what he could not openly control. 
Under the reserve of an unsocial manner, and the 
secrecy of private life, he concealed his complicated 
plan of attack on the constitution, and waited with 
restless ardor for the decisive stroke. 

Josephine did not enter fully into his love of glory, 
which in its boundlessness was like a fascinating and 
ungovernable madness, nor even adopt the sentiments 
of any of the repubhcan factions. She leaned rather 
towards royalty, whose last representative in the per- 
son of Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette, she admired. 
Contrasting his reign, the corruption of his Court, and 
the sufferings of his subjects, with the bloodshed, terror, 
and lawlessness that followed his dethronement, there 
was on the surface of things more to condemn than 
approve in the civil war which was waged in the name 
of liberty. She naturally turned with pleasure to the 

years of tranquillity, and ''^ her weariness of tumul 
10 (4 



148 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

and anarchy, preferred the shadow of a monarchy to 
the misrule of corrupt freemen. This predilection for 
the Bourbons was apparent in her effort to rescue the 
proscribed adherents of the fallen dynasty, and her in- 
timacies with the noblesse who still lingered in France 
as memorials of an ancient line — the exponents of a 
vanishing yet venerable and splendid aristocracy. 
Among these familiar friends, was Madam de Mon- 
tesson, widow of the Duke d'Orleans, whose sym- 
pathies were with the exiled members of the King's 
family altogether ; and Josephine's generous nature 
was also touched by the greatness of their calamity. 
In the mean time, Eugene was making fast atonement 
for his self-denial in the East, by dashing without re- 
straint into the pleasures of the metropolis, shining in 
the gay circles, and at military fetes. He was a re- 
publican as far as was agreeable to Napoleon, to whom 
he looked for the opportunity of gathering additional 
laurels, and augmenting his means of sensual enjoy- 
ment. He was a man of mind and heart, but aspiring, 
and devoted to the intoxication of convivial excite- 
ment, whenever an interlude in the battle-march oc- 
curred. His appearance and manner of employing 
such leisure, are thus pleasantly described by a writer. 
" Without being handsome, there was something ex- 
tremely prepossessing in his frank and manly counte- 
nance. His stature, though small (not exceeding five 
feet four inches,) displayed a form active and well 
knit, though somewhat deficient in dignity, from a 
mincing gait — a youthful affectation which, however 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 149 

disappeared with the firmness and responsibilities of 
manhood and high enterprise. At this time, his chief 
amusement — one, too, not altogether without an object 
— was to give splendid breakfasts to the young officers 
of his own standing. At these entertainments, some 
amusing plot, such as is common among young people, 
was constantly occurring. Of these adventures Eu- 
gene was in the habit of giving entertaining recitals to 
his mother, and often to his father-in-law, who laughed 
very heartily at such displays, one or two of which 
may, therefore, be mentioned, on the report of an eye- 
witness. Ventriloquism was, about this time, attract- 
ing notice in Paris, through the performances of 
Thiemet, afterward so famous a professor of the art. 
One morning, when a gay circle of young oilicers 
breakfasted with Eugene, first one, then another, heard 
himself distinctly called out of the room, by the voice 
of his serving-man, until the whole party had, in turn, 
made a fruitless expedition down stairs. Each return 
ed more amazed than another ; and it was finally re- 
solved to sally forth in a body. Thiemet, who, not 
personally known, save as a guest, to any of the party, 
had all this time continued quietly seated at the table, 
opening his lips only to eat or drink, functions which 
he seemed to perform with great address, now rose to 
assist in the search of the invisible serving-man. JSTo 
sooner had the party reached the hall, than the calls, 
all apparently from different quarters, were repeated ; 
each scampered off in various pursuit of the supposed 
culprits, crying out, 'Here! here's the rascal!' till, in 



150 LITE OF JOSEPHIIOI. 

the inextricable confusion, Eugene's loud laugh dis- 
covered the whole plot. The greater part received it 
' as a passably excellent joke ;' but some there were 
disposed to bestow the chastisement of the innocent 
valets on the guilty professor. 'Nay, nay, gentlemen/ 
interposed Eugene, ' my friend Thiemet is not to 
blame; if you cannot forgive a frolic, the quarrel is 
mine.' Upon this a second adjournment was made to 
the breakfast-table, and Thiemet restored good-humor 
by equally extraordinary, but less offensive, displays of 
his powers." 

But with Bonaparte, matters were hastening to an 
issue that would surprise the nation, and astonish the 
world. The deceptive quietude that reigned in the 
routine of his unostentatious movements, resembled 
the hush of the elements when mustering for battle — 
the pause of the fiery wave that rocks the earth before 
it shakes dome and tower from their base, marking a. 
new epoch of physical history with the fragments it 
has laid in the dust. On the very morning of the 18th 
Brumaire, (Nov. 9th, 1799,) the house of Napoleon 
was the arena of festivity. The author above quoted, 
has recorded the singular introduction to events so 
awakening and abiding in deciding the destinies of 
Europe. 

" While the meeting of general officers took place 
in the Rue Chantereine — now Victoire — and Josephine 
expected the president, Gohier, to breakfast, her son 
held also one of his entertainments, for which prepara- 
tions had been made nearly a week before. Those in- 



LIFE OF JOSEPIiIXK. 151 

vited consisted exclusively of young officers, and theii 
meeting was as gay as usual, but far more numerous 
Among the guests, one, distinguished for his powers of 
mimicry, created infinite amusement to his companions, 
by successful caricatures of the members of the Direct- 
ory. To exhibit, for instance, the person and demeanor 
of one, he dressed himself in a table-cloth, draped a la 
Grecque, stripped his black stock, rolled back his shirt 
collar, and advanced with many affected graces, lean- 
ing his left arm on the shoulder of a younger com- 
panion, and with his right hand stroking his chin 
' Barras ! Barras !' shouted his comrades, thus crown- 
ing his exhibition with loud applause. But the repre- 
sentation is changed: enter again the young soldier, 
but scarcely to be recognized, his cravat stuffed with 
a huge roll of paper, his visage chalked into squalid 
paleness, and elongated to a most rueful length. With 
all this meagreness in the requisites of an amiable, he 
makes it appear that he aspires to pass for accomplished, 
and seizing a chair, after making some awkward cara- 
coles, as if on horseback, down comes the cavalier with 
a heavy fall. Shouts of ' Sieyes — the prick-eared abbe,' 
resounds from all corners of the rooms, and the officer 
rises to join in the ridicule which he has excited. 
Sieyes was at this time actually taking lessons at the 
riding-school in the Luxembourg ! The breakfast was 
thus an excellent training for the grenadier charge in 
the hall of the deputies, and Eugene knew well what 
he was about. After appointing a rendezvous with his 



152 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

youthful associates to join the cortege, he hastened to 
meet his father-in-law." 

During these entertainments in the thronged abode 
of the conqueror, his Conspirators were busy in the 
halls of government. According to the plot of Napo- 
leon and Sieyes, Regnier, deputy from La Meurthe, 
member of the Council of the Ancients, after harangues 
had been listened to upon the perils and sufferings of 
the country, rose and proposed that the sessions of that 
body be removed to St. Cloud, and that such decree 
be executed by Bonaparte, conferring, at the same 
time, on him the command of the troops; "under the 
shadow of whose protecting arm," added the speaker, 
"the Councils may proceed to discuss the changes 
whica the public interest renders necessary." The 
motion passed, and a messenger was despatched to the 
residence of Napoleon. Amid acclamations he received 
the oath of fidelity from the officers about him, and 
escorted by them advanced to the bar of the Council 
of the Ancients. He was the object of universal 
enthusiasm at the Tuilleries, assuring the populace 
that " liberty, victory, and peace, would soon reinstate 
the Republic." He thus addressed Ballot, the Secre- 
tary of Barras : " What have you done with that 
France I left you so splendid ? I left you peace, and I 
find you at war : I left you victory, and 1 find defeats : 
I left you the spoils of Italy, and I find everywhere 
oppression and misery. What have you done with a 
nundred thousand Frenchmen, whom I knew, all of 
ihem my companions in glory ? They are dead. This 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 153 

State of things cannot last; in three years it would lead 
us to destruction. According to some, we shall all be 
shortly enemies to the Republic ; we who have pre- 
served it by our efforts and our courage. We have no 
occasion for better patriots than 'the brave men who 
shed their blood in its defence." The Directory, 
alarmed, issued orders to the Guards, conflicting with 
those of Napoleon, which were treated with contempt. 
Thereupon, Gohier and Moulins resigned, who, with 
Sieyes and Ducos before them, brought that conclave 
to a final dissolution. But the danger was with the 
other two branches of representation. No sooner was 
the council of Five Hundred opened, than a fierce 
debate and tumult commenced, especially around the 
chair in which Lucien Bonaparte presided ; the Con- 
stitution of the year III. was restored. The com- 
mander-in-chief saw that a volcano was opening 
beneath his feet, and hurried to the Council of An- 
cients, sitting in the gallery of Mars, to receive their 
co-operation before the uproar in the Orangery reached 
their chamber. He made a thrilling speech, full of 
patriotic fire and denunciations of those who cried 
" outlaw to the Dictator !" The Grenadiers waved 
their caps, and a re-entrance of the Orangery, followed 
to the door by his officers, was the next act in the 
grand drama. There his friends were divided, and the 
vote was called for upon the decree of outlawry of 
himself. Then arose cries of " Death to the tyrant !" 
"Down with the Dictator!" till the days of terrorism 
seemed to have returned, and the victim ready to h** 



154 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ofTered. Napoleon was disconcerted — it was a new 
field of contest and threatened death, and required a 
careful survey before he could act with dignity and 
effect. 

The Grenadiers rallied and bore him away. Lu- 
cien addressed the soldiers in impetuous style, followed 
by Napoleon, who ordered them to clear the Hall of 
the Five Hundred. They reached the entrance, and 
hesitated ; when General Leclerc came up with his 
band; and shouted, '' Grenadiers forward !" The drums 
beat, and the glittering bayonets swept the representa- 
tives from their seats ; in a few hours, the Legislative 
Assemblies were no more, and Bonaparte was first con- 
sul of France. On the overthrow of representation had 
arisen a monarchy essentially, though its features were 
not recognized by the restless millions, whose imagina- 
tion invested their master with the mysteriousness of 
an angelic nature, and the power of a god. Yet was 
the result a blessing, soon visible in the physical, civil, 
and moral improvement of the nation. Captives were 
released — civil war suppressed, and order upon a basis 
of stability unknown during the entire succession of 
eight predecessors at the helm of power, seven years 
had witnessed, again pervaded society. This aspect 
of things was grateful to Josephine, and still she some- 
times trembled with apprehension as to the termination 
of this strange and dizzy ascent to supremacy, mingling 
with words of congratulation the accents of fear, to 
check the wild pastime of unconquerable ambition be- 
fore "it over-leaped itself" About this time occurred 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSnS. 155 

the marriage of Murat, the bearer of despatches from 
the Campaign of Italy, which first introduced him to 
the notice of Josephine. She admired his miUtary ac- 
comphshments, and his gallant deportment, hut de- 
spised his want of generosity when it cost personal 
sacrifice, and of all principle, which made his excessive 
vanity the more offensive. She interested herself in 
this affair, because pleasing to the parties, and having 
a tendency to efface entirely from the consul's mind 
even the recollection of absurd rumors concerning 
Murat's familiarities with her. 

There is sublimity in the elevation of character 
which Josephine displayed toward those whose enmity 
spent its arrows on her gentle heart — a character, that 
like a silver stream broken on the verge of a precipice 
into a shower of crushed diamonds, was the most at- 
tractive in the light of its many virtues, when the wont- 
ed flow of existence was interrupted by a great calami- 
ty upon herself or those she cherished, For illustra- 
tion, we introduce a letter to Bonaparte a few years 
later, when Murat's treachery was disclosed to the in- 
dignation of mankind, while it threw a portentous 
gjloom over the prospects of him, from whose fraternal 
hand the traitor had received a crown. 

"Sire, — I have this instant learned that your sus- 
picions are confirmed, and that the King of Naples, dis- 
regarding the most sacred ties of consanguinity and 
gratitude, has joined the ranks of your enemies. I have 
unfortunately nothing to say in his defence ; and can 
find in my heart no solace for the devouring anxiety 



156 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 

which yours must feel : what stronger proof that my 
own is without consolation! Still I cannot be silent, 
there are those around you, who, too ready to aggra- 
vate the crime of the guilty, will but augment your 
sorrow, should their obsequious counsels lead to violent 
extremes. You know that I never have resisted your 
will, though I have sometimes had the courage to op- 
pose your views, and ventured observations to which 
you rendered justice by changing your plans, and adopt- 
ing those suggested by a weak woman. Suffer me still 
to use this privilege. The King of Naples is without 
excuse. But, sire, do not involve his wife in your ven- 
geance, by depriving her of an affection to which she 
has ever attached a great value, and which it would be 
unjust to take from her, if, as I believe, that unhappy 
princess is in all things opposed to her husband's crime. 
Far from overwhelming her under the weight of a re- 
sentment which it is not probable she merits, address 
yourself to her heart, that she may employ all imagin- 
able means to prevent the king from injuring you and 
dishonoring himself. 

" If things can no longer be remedied, and if you 
must be constrained henceforth to view as an enem)^ 
a brother who owes to you the crown which he is ready 
to disgrace — ah ! do not repulse the queen, when she 
will soon have none other save you upon whom she 
can rely; for you have often repeated, and history 
proves by a thousand examples, that traitors never are 
successful in their treason. The king, whom the 
hostile powers now treat as an ally, will be sacrificed, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHUSTE. 15 V 

should peace with you be his price — if, contrary to all 
appearances, they should prove conquerors. Mural 
would be equally the victim ; for they would no longer 
tolerate a King w^hom they had previously treated as a 
usurper, but would hurl him from that throne which he 
now seeks to preserve by means the most blamable 
and most impolitic, and even by baseness itself. 

" Pity your sister, sire ; she has too much under 
standing not to have appreciated the fearful futurity 
which hangs over her. If ever she should be unfor- 
tunate, receive her again to your affections ; and con- 
sole yourself for the ingratitude of her husband by the 
enjoyment of the heartfelt attachment with which 
your moderation will inspire her. Remember, too, 
that if from the first impulses even of a just indignation 
you yield yourself up to the stern pleasure of rendering 
evil for evil, the consequences will eventually affect 
your innocent nephews, and so, sooner or later, you 
must lament a severity which will have cost you 
many tears. Sire, I plead in your own interest ; re- 
flect well before finally determining. Consult not 
those men whose facile temper merely follows all the 
variations of your own, but those devoted servants who 
are around your brave and royal brother-in-arms — 
who never trafficked with their consciences, and who 
would have preferred even your displeasure to an ad- 
vice that could compromise honor. Hear madam 
your mother. Finally, do not punish by your hate 
until It has been proved that you cannot pardon. 

" Excuse, sire, what I have written. The hope of 



158 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

one day beholding you repent a too prompt condemna- 
tion has led me, perhaps, to displease you. The con- 
sciousness of discharging a duty has inspired me with 
courage on this so painful occasion. You will pardon 
a zeal, not officious, but sincere, which has induced me 
thus far to presume to give advice ; and you will say 
that Josephine has never ceased to be candid with him 
who of all men is the sincerest lover of that truth 
which yet he so rarely hears. 

" To-morrow I expect Eugene ; be pleased, sire, to 
tell him if you forgive me this letter, written with the 
desire ever dearest to my heart — of seeing you happy, 
-Vengeance inflicted where a sister is concerned, will 
not conduce to happiness when the bosom, like yours, 
is disposed to the soft emotions of fraternal love. Be- 
lieve me ever, and preserve for me the friendship so 
precious to Josephine." 

While at the Luxembourg, Bonaparte was absorbed 
with plans for consolidating the new government, and 
raising money to meet its expenditures. Here Jose- 
phine saw him daily, and probably enjoyed more domes- 
tic felicity than at any other period of her life, with 
Napoleon. But finding this republican residence too 
small for his court and ambition, he obtained a removal 
of the Consular domicil to the Tuilleries, although the 
very centre of kingly associations, and of that hated 
pomp which the people had trodden in the dust with 
the blood of their monarch. Everything opposed to 
the levelling democracy was proposed and carried 
forward under disguise. The ancient halls of royalty 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 159 

"vvere named the Government Palace, and given into 
the hands of rulers, whose chief wore in place of a 
crown a conqueror's cockade, and for a sceptre a 
sword which he grasped with more devotion than 
ever did a despot the symbol of power. 

The occasion of this transfer was one of great 
splendor — resembling an English coronation in the 
ceremony and jubilant festivity of the scene. The 
Consul's tried and brave companions-in-arms were 
many of them in the train which delighted to do him 
honor. The troops dashed proudly along the streets, 
the banners were flung out on the breath of departinor 
winter — and the swell of martial music led on the 
excited cavalcade to the silent apartments made des- 
olate by the Reign of Terror. Upon their walls was 
engraved in golden letters, the word Republic — com- 
pleting the deception which calmed the fears of the 
masses unconsciously rendering homage to Jupiter, 
while as they supposed bowing to the goddess of 
libertv. 

The evening of this memorable day brought the 
arena of Josephine's glory. The spacious drawing- 
rooms occupied by her were crowded by eight o'clock 
with the beauty and chivalry of France. Foreign 
ambassadors in decorations that were indices of the 
Courts that they represented, veteran officers, and the 
remnant of an ancient nobility, all assembled to con- 
gratulate the hero of Egypt and Italy, upon his ac- 
cession to the guardianship of their beloved France. 
Beautiful women in rich apparel and with jewelled 



]Q0 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

brows, shed the Hght of their admiring eyes upon the 
flashing star, coronet and plume, that were the attrac- 
tive insignia of greatness in that ga}^ assembly. The 
horrors of civil war which for ten years had agitated 
and ravaged the realm were forgotten — the dead 
slumbered in the covered caves of their hurried burial — 
the guillotine had ceased to haunt the ear with the 
ominous echo of its frequent stroke, and the nation's 
heart beat once more freely beneath the protecting 
eegis of that single arm, which had hewn down the 
riotous mob, annihilated armies, then overthrowing a 
miserable government, in the name of a citizen had 
taken the reins of supreme dictation over a submissive 
and delighted people. 

The illusion was successful that met their observa- 
tion in all this outward parade. The fine talents of 
untitled heroes, and the splendor that outshone the 
gaudy machine of Bourbon oppression, pleased ex- 
ceedingly the multitude, who seemed to be in the as- 
cendant — while the royalists read with hope in this 
returning grandeur, the indications of a full restoration 
of monarchy. 

Guests from every class of citizens, therefore, par- 
ticipated in this magnificent entertainment, with unu- 
sual joy. Josephine attended by Talleyrand, the min- 
ister of foreign affairs, entered the saloon greeted with 
the murmur of universal admiration. Her dress was 
simple, and her manner, then as always indeed, per- 
fectly graceful. The white muslin of her apparel like 
a vestal robe, was both entirely becoming and an 



LIFE OP JOSEPHrPTE. 161 

emblem of her unstained innocence of action The 
tresses of her hair fell negligently upon her neck, 
around which a simple ornament of pearls threw theii 
lustre, and her features beaming with benignity made 
her a charming contrast with the unfortunate wife of 
Louis, her admired predecessor. She received the 
presentation of ambassadors with quiet dignity, and 
passed through the thronged apartments, smiling on 
the company with the sympathy and affection of an 
ingenuous spirit beneath the unaffected majesty of a 
queen. She was now thirty-six, but retained to a re- 
markable degree the freshness and buoyancy of her 
youth. Her tasteful and unostentatious attire, and the 
sparkling sweetness of her conversation, contributed 
much to the manifold attractions she possessed. 

" Josephine was rather above than below the middle 
size, her's being exactly that perfection of stature 
which is neither too tall for the delicacy of feminine 
proportion, nor so diminutive as to detract from dig- 
nity. Her person, in its individual forms, exhibited 
faultless symmetry ; and the whole frame, animated by 
lightness and elasticity of movement, seemed like 
something aerial in its perfectly graceful carriage. 
This harmonious ease of action contributed yet more 
to the dignified, though still youthful air so remarkable 
in Josephine's appearance. Her features were small 
and finely modelled, the curves tending rather to ful- 
ness, and the profile inclining to Grecian, but without 
any statue-like coldness of outline. The habitual 
character of her countenance was a placid sweetness, 



162 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

vvithin whose influence there were few who would not 
have felt interested in a being so gentle. Perhaps the 
first impression might have left a feeling that there 
wanted energy ; but this could have been for an in- 
stant only, for the real charm of this mild countenance 
resided in its power of varied expression, changing 
with each vicissitude of thought and sentiment. 
* Never,' says a very honest admirer, * did any woman 
better justify the saying, ' The eyes are the mirror of 
the soul.' Josephine's were of a deep blue, clear and 
brilliant, even imposing in their expression, when turn- 
ed fully upon any one ; but in her usual manner they 
lay half concealed beneath their long and silky eye- 
lashes. She had a habit of looking thus with a mild 
subdued glance upon those whom she loved, throwing 
into her regard such winning tenderness as might not 
easily be resisted, and, even in his darkest moods, Na- 
poleon confessed its tranquillizing power. Realizing 
exactly the fine description of the old poet, Josephine's 

" Long hair was glossy chestnut brown," 

whose sunny richness harmonized delightfully with a 
clear and transparent complexion, and neck of almost 
dazzling whiteness. Her eyebrows were a shade 
darker, arching regularly, and pencilled with extreme 
delicacy. The perfect modulation of her voice has al- 
ready been mentioned ; it constituted one of her most 
pleasing attractions, and rendered her conversation, 
though not sparkling with wit nor remarkable for 
strength, but flowing on in easy elegance and perfect 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 163 

good-nature, the most captivating that can easily be 
conceived. On the whole, Josephine, perhaps, might 
not exactly have pretensions to be what is termed a 
fine woman, but her's was that style of beauty which 
awakens in the heart a far deeper sentiment than mere 
admiration." 

iN'apoleon, on the occasion described, appeared in 
plain uniform, decorated only with the tri-colored sash, 
a simple and beautiful badge worn with no less policy 
than taste. A glow of satisfaction played upon his pale 
features — his noble forehead hung like a battlement 
over the restless orbs whose fire flashed with the ra- 
pidity of lightning, revealing the changing hue of 
thought, but not its secret, mighty workings — and 
upon his countenance, meditation as a mysterious 
presence was always visible. His figure was rather 
diminutive, and he stooped in walking carelessly with 
fi'iends. His hands were symmetrical, of which it is 
said he w^as particularly vain. Among the eccentric- 
ities of his deportment, which were merely the peculi- 
arities of genius engaged in profound contemplation, 
he had a convulsive shrug of his right shoulder, mov- 
ing at the same instant his mouth in that direction. 

Bonaparte turned away with weariness at times 
from the cares and pleasures of the Tuilleries, and 
sought with Josephine the tranquil scenes of Mal- 
maison. 

The tenth day of the decade, and after the restora- 
tion of the hebdomadal calendar, every Saturday and 

Sabbath were p&ssed at their charming villa. Hor- 

11 



164 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tense had from the first acquaintance a great antipathy 
toward Napoleon — a vague fear of hi in haunted her 
continually, which was only conquered during this fa- 
miliar intercourse subsequent to the consulship, and 
rather from respect to her mother than because she 
admired the wonderful man. Such was his prefer- 
ence for this retirement, that he often returned to the 
palace with evident emotion — uttering an expression 
of recoil from the duties of his official station. Bona- 
parte was capable of absorbing attachment, and social 
enjoyment, but his ambition permitted no obstacle to 
lie in his way — a battalion of brave soldiers, or a single 
loving heart, offered no barrier to success ; he would 
sooner drain a goblet of tears he made to flow, than 
swerve from a purpose involving his glory. This con- 
flict of powers on the war-plain of the human soul, is 
discernible in every phase of his history. And it 
naturally awakened apprehension of secret enemies, 
and the assassin's stroke, which invaded even the 
peace of his private abode. He ordered the remodel- 
ling and embellishment of Malmaison, which intro- 
duced suspicious workmen upon the grounds, shaking 
his consciousness of security, and investing his cher- 
ished seclusion with gloomy presentiments ; those pro- 
phetic shadows of the future that always had force 
upon the mind of Napoleon. 

Josephine observed the appearance of those builders 
whose dress and expression indicated treachery, and 
ordered the utmost vigilance in regard to their move- 
ments. When the preparations were finished, and the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 165 

Consul again entered his apartments, he found a snuff- 
box on his writing-table, placed there evidently to at- 
tract attention. Its similarity to those he used, de- 
ceived him for a moment, and he thought perhaps his 
valet had put the box there, where it was frequently 
laid. But a suspicion flashed upon him, and the con- 
tents were examined, disclosing a subtle and active 
poison, designed to destroy the illustrious slave to 
habit. The porter of this mansion added a guard of 
Newfoundland dogs, and caution marked all the ar- 
rangements of the republican residence, giving it the 
air of a feudal castle whose lord was in jeopardy every 
hour from invisible foes. So it happens frequently 
that the scarred veteran of numberless battles, will 
tremble with alarm when danger comes in calmer mo- 
ments — and quail before the stealthy, certain approach 
of death. Courage which appeared sublime while ros6 
the stirring notes of 

" Death's music, and the roar of combat," 

leaves the hero in tears in the hour of despondency 
and gloom, which contemplation upon life's mystery 
and the realm lying beyond awaken, or fears of a fu- 
ture retribution fling upon the spirit. 

The spring of 1800 wore away — Napoleon saw 
everything complete in the convenience and beauty 
of Malmaison. The heavy debts Josephine accumu- 
lated in purchasing the estate and furniture while he 
was in Egypt, were urged by the creditors, and it be- 
came necessary to broach the subject to the Consul. 



166 LIFE OF JOSEPHmE. 

He was at first indignant, but immediately ordered 
payment, and soon exhibited his usual composure 
Josephine dissembled in regard to the amount,, fearing 
his displeasure, reporting 600,000 francs instead of 
1,200,000, the sum due, but which, by the interposition 
of Talleyrand, was reduced to that moiety. Bona- 
parte's leisure was filled up with family parties, the 
entertainment of particular friends, and evening walks 
with Bourrienne. Then came the correspondence 
with England — unsuccessful negotiations for peace, 
and preparations for re-crossing the Alps with his 
splendid army. 

On the 4th of May he left Malmaison, and embra- 
cing Josephine upon his departure, bade her adieu with 
these words : " Courage, my good Josephine ! I shall 
not forget thee, nor will my absence be long." Two 
days after he was reviewing the vanguard of the Army 
of Reserve at Lausanne, consisting of six tried regi- 
ments of his best troops under Lannes. Immediately 
orders were given for the whole force, led by Victor, 
Murat, Monnier, and other brave commanders, amount- 
ing to 36,000 men, to move forward to St. Pierre, a 
hamlet at the foot of St. Bernard. From this village 
to St. Remi, over that gigantic crest of the Alps, Great 
St. Bernard, the route is environed with difficulties 
apparently insurmountable, and which frown upon the 
daring adventurer with hopeless terror. A survey of 
the fearful ascent resulted in the decision of a bare 
possibility of success] upon which Napoleon said con- 
fidently, " Let us forward then!" The mighty caval- 



LIFE OF josephi]s:e. 167 

cade went steadily up the rugged heights — over preci- 
pices well-nigh perpendicular, dragging the heavy 
artillery upon the trunks of trees after them, while 
martial music was poured in thrilling echoes on the 
ear of the mountain solitude, and the occasional inter- 
lude of a charge was beaten, to revive the courage of 
the struggling host. The eagle left his eyry to look on 
a scene that his flashing eye had never witnessed be- 
fore, and sent down to the dark defiles the cry of 
alarm ; while the wild goat paused in his flight to 
watch the tortuous advance of the vast Hydra which 
hung upon the snow-clad declivity, from its base to its 
cloud- covered brow. The Consul descended the glit- 
tering glaciers in a sledge — on the 2d of June entered 
Milan amid the shouts of the populace, who supposed 
he was sleeping beneath the waters of the Red Sea — 
and on the 14th of June he was waiting for the enemy 
on the plain of Marengo. It would be a digression to 
describe the memorable battle in which the legions of 
Austria were scattered ; 6000 grenadiers who gloried 
in their invincible onsets, routed with terrific slaughter, 
and which decided the fate of Italy by restoring what 
France had lost during Napoleon's adventures abroad. 
Conditions of peace were concluded, and the Consul 
hastened towards Paris. At Lyons, and Dijon, a 
storm of enthusiasm followed him — young women in 
groups flung flowers in his path — and on the 2d of 
July, he re-entered Paris amid the deafening applause 
of the people. 

Josephine had passed the interval at Malmaison 



168 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

quietly multiplying its external attractions, arranging 
a sort of private menagerie of animals sent her by 
Bonaparte, or through his conquests, and as tokens of 
gratitude for her own philanthropy, from friends she 
had never seen, in distant countries. She indulged 
also in the fine and healthful pastime of riding on 
horseback, in company with Hortense. 

Upon one of these excursions, Hortense's steed took 
fright, and wheeling suddenly around, ran at full speed. 
She attempted to ahght that she might relieve her 
mother from alarm, but was entangled in the folds of 
her riding habit, and drawn some distance upon the 
ground. The fair and excellent equestrian was speed- 
ily rescued from danger, and suffered only slight 
bruises, which may have been lamented as blemishes 
upon her beauty, in spite of the mirth that rang out in 
her laughter upon regaining the saddle. But the most 
delightful entertainment to Josephine, was the perusal 
of the conqueror's letters from the Alpine defiles and 
the plains beyond. These bore not alone tidings of 
victory, but, what is more precious to a woman's heart, 
the assurance that nothing effaced her image from his 
memory, or quenched the incense-flame of love burn- 
ing with increasing intensity upon her hidden altar of 
devotion to him. 

For nearly four months following the armistice which 
was concluded on the 15th of June, Napoleon had lit- 
tle to engage his attention that prevented frequent 
visits to Malmaison. By this time the nation had re- 
covered from its paroxysms of republicanism, so called, 



LIFE OF JOSJ£PHII*fB. 169 

and settled back to order and decency of manners, 
while refinement began to blend with the amenities of 
social and domestic life. No one was more capable or 
willing to improve the desirable medium between the 
extravagance of a dissolute aristocracy, and the coarse 
equality of the levelling democracy that rose on the 
overthrow of the former, than Josephine. She re- 
ceived courteously and unostentatiously the many 
visitors that frequented her mansion, embracing tne 
most distinguished and cultivated persons of the realm. 
Bonaparte appeared happy in the bosom of his family, 
surrounded by a band of ardent friends, and worshipped 
by the multitude, ready to shout at the sound of his 
salutation, as did the admirers of Herod, "It is the 
voice of a god !" 

He mingled familiarly in amusements invented to 
lend an agreeable variety to the pleasures of the villa, 
and delight the young people of his adoption. Some- 
times a mimic theatre exhibited a comedy or tragedy 
— then a game of " prisoners" covered the lawn with a 
scene of excitement, pleasant to the actors as it was 
diverting to spectators. Josephine felt besides the in- 
terest common to all, a mother's pride and joy in the 
decorous sports of a son and blooming daughter, dearer 
to her than existence. She anticipated every want, 
and gave eclat to each brilliant achievement in the in- 
nocent pastimes that filled with sounds of mirth the 
groves of her peaceful domain, and made the moonlit 
landscape a fairy land. It was all she desired to have 
—the sceptre of the universe could add nothing to this 



170 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

'ruition of her earthly hopes. The following is a de- 
scription of one of these games : — 

" Bonaparte and Josephine, Eugene, Hortense, Caro- 
line Bonaparte, Rapp, Lauriston, Duroc, Isabey, wiih 
Bourrienne, and a few other confidential retainers, di- 
vided into two camps, as they were termed ; and, when 
nothing pressed, the sport often continued for hours. 
The best runners were Eugene and his sister ; but 
Bonaparte in the selection of partisans always chose 
Josephine, never suffering her to be in any camp but 
his own. When by chance she happened to be taken 
prisoner, he always seemed uneasy till she was released, 
making all exertions for that purpose, though a bad 
runner himself, often coming down in mid career with 
a heavy fall on the grass. Up again, however, he start- 
ed, but usually so convulsed with laughter that he could 
not possibly move, and the affair generally ended in his 
captivity. When placed in durance, or when Jose- 
phine had been taken, he kept constantly calling out to 
his party, * A rescue ! a rescue !' clapping his hands, 
shouting to encourage the runners, and in short, ex- 
hibiting all the ardor of a boy at play. When we find 
the conqueror at Marengo, the restorer of France, thus 
yielding to the kindly promptings of harmless mirth in 
the bosom of his family, we almost forget his real 
character." 

But as ISTapoleon had the stern duties of state tc 
occupy the hours chiefly, and enlist his unslumbering 
energies, so Josephine never forgot her higher obliga- 
tions to the suffering who needed her interposition, or 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIXE. 171 

the poor who asked for alms. Esj)ecially did she give 
the whole weight of her influence to the aid of those 
exiles from their country and families, who were driven 
by the waves of revolution to foreign shores. When- 
ever there was hope of restoration, her eflforts were 
unwearied to attain the object — the only reward desir- 
ed, was the rapture of the meeting, when the father 
crossed the threshold of the sanctuary from which he 
had been rudely torn. But sometimes she was denied 
even this — the ancestral halls of the returning captives 
in many instances were in the possession of strangers, 
and her benevolence was farther engaged in securing 
a home for the friendless. 

Josephine's active sympathy for the afflicted, and 
her deep acquaintance with the human heart, are dis- 
played affectingly in an incident connected with the 
Decrest family, who were restored to their country by 
her mediation. A nephew of the marquis, who was 
a young officer of some distinction, was killed at the 
national festival celebrated soon after the formation of 
the consulate by the accidental explosion of a rocket. 
He was an only son, and his father gave himself up to 
hopeless grief. Upon the following day, Madam Mon- 
tesson, the friend of Josephine, and a relative of Decrest, 
invited the bereaved family to her house. But nothing 
could relieve the rayless gloom of a father's mourning ; 
he was unmoved by the accents of condolence, or en- 
treaties of loved ones, who feared that a fixed insanity 
or sudden death would be the result of his wild sor- 
row. 

H 



172 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine entered the apartment, and gazed a mo- 
ment on the scene of anguish, and silently prepared to 
break the spell of despair that darkened every mo- 
ment upon the spirit of the chief mourner. Taking his 
eldest daughter by the hand, she led the weeping child 
to his knee, then raised the youngest, a smiling infant, 
in her arms, while she knelt in the eloquence of a 
grieving angel before him. He started, looked half un- 
consciously on the group, then his eye brightened in 
the midst of rising tears, his lips quivered, and in an- 
other instant he wept in their embrace. The fountain 
of parental affection was unsealed again, and invoking 
a blessing on his deliverer, he rose to life from the very 
shadow of death. 

Toward the close of the year 1800, conspiracies 
thickened around the First Consul. Among the most 
threatening, were that of Ceracchi, on the part of the 
revolutionary mob, and the 3d Nivose, by the royal- 
ists. The former was matured by one Harrel, Arena, 
Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville, and the time of ac- 
tion was appointed upon an evening when the Consul 
designed to visit the opera. Harrel betrayed his ac- 
complices, but the disclosure was not known to them 
till their arrangements were completed, and Napoleon 
was seated with Duroc at the opera ; when they were 
arrested in the lobby and hurried to prison. This 
treacherous conspirator was rewarded with the appoint- 
ment of commandant of Vincennes, which post he held 
when Duke d'Eeghien fell by the assassin's thrust in 
that prison. This plot occurred the first of October. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 173 

About three months afterward that of the 3d Nivose, 
a more deeply laid and fearful conspiracy, was formed 
— whose actors invented and built that engine of death, 
memorable as the infernal machine. The 3d Nivose 
was the 21st December, on the evening of which the 
performance of Haydn's splendid Oratorio of the 
Creation was to take place. Bonaparte had mentioned 
his intention of attending the Concert with his family. 
He rode in company with Lannes, Berthier, and Lau- 
riston, while General Rapp in another carriao;e escorted 
Josephine and her children. Upon reaching the middle 
of the street St. Nicaise, a narrow way leading from 
the Tuilleries, a terrible explosion blew twenty persons 
into the air, wounded sixty more, and threw two or 
three dwellings from their foundation, burying: the dead 
beneath their fragments. 

The following is General Rapp's own account of the 
entire scene and the destructive agency employed by 
the Jacobins, as the Consul believed : — 

" The affair of the infernal machine has never been 
properly understood by the public. The police had 
intimated to Napoleon, that an attempt w^ould be made 
against his life, and cautioned him not to go out. 
Madam Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, Madam 
Murat, Lannes, Bessieres, the aid-de-camp on duty, 
and Lieutenant Lebrun, now Duke of Placenza, were 
all assembled in the saloon, while the First Consul was 
writing in his closet. 

"Haydn's Oratorio was to be performed that even- 
ing : the ladies were anxious to hear the music, and 



174 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

we also expressed a wish to that effect. The escort 
picquet was ordered out; and Lannes requested Napo- 
leon would join the party. He consented ; his carriage 
was ready, and he took along with him Bessieres and 
the aid-de-camp on duty. I was directed to attend 
the ladies. Josephine had received a magnificent 
shawl from Constantinople, and she that evening wore 
it for the first time. ' Allow me to observe. Madam,' 
said I, ' that your shawl is not thrown on wdth your 
usual elegance.' She good-humoredly begged that I 
would fold it after the fashion of the Egyptian ladies. 
While I was engaged in this operation, we heard 
Napoleon depart. ' Come, sister,' said Madam Murat, 
who was impatient to get to the theatre, ' Bonaparte is 
going.' We stepped into the carriage • the First Con- 
sul's equipage had already reached the middle of the 
Place Carrousel. We drove after it ; but we had 
scarcely entered the Place, when the machine exploded. 
Napoleon escaped by a singular chance. Saint-Re- 
gent, or his French servant, had stationed himself in 
the middle of the Rue Nicaise. A grenadier of the 
escort, supposing he was really what he appeared to 
be, a water-carrier, gave him a few blows with the flat 
of his sabre, and drove him off. The cart was turned 
around, and the machine exploded between the car- 
riages of Napoleon and Josephine. The ladies shrieked 
on hearing the report ; the carriage windows were 
broken, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais received a 
slight hurt on he:' hand. I alighted, and crossed thei 
Rue Nicaise, which was strewed with the bodies of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 175 

those who had been thrown down, and the fragments 
of the walls that had been shattered by the explosion 
Neither the Consul nor any individual of his suite sus- 
tained any serious injury. When I entered the theatre, 
Napoleon w^as seated in his box, calm and composed, 
and looking at the audience through his opera-glass. 
Fouche was beside him. 'Josephine,' said he, as soon 
as he observed me. She entered at that moment, and 
he did not finish his question. * The rascals,' said he, 
very coolly, * wanted to blow me up. Bring me a book 
of the Oratorio.' " 

Again Josephine's destiny turned on apparently an 
unimportant event. The delay occasioned by her 
pleasantry about a beautiful shawl, doubtless saved her 
from the unseen ruin, in which so many perished. 
Another letter from her to Fouche, minister of police, 
after the execution of the leaders in the diabolical de- 
sign, and sentence of one hundred and thirty more of 
the suspected to transportation for life, again exhibits 
her greatness of soul and gushing tenderness for the 
suffering, whether made by their own guilt or that of 
another. 

" Citizen Minister, — While I yet tremble at the 
frightful event which has just occurred, I am disquieted 
and distressed, through fear of the punishment neces- 
sarily to be inflicted on the guilty, who belong, it is 
said, to families with whom I once lived in habits of 
intercourse. I shall be solicited by mothers, sisters, 
and disconsolate wives ; and my heart will be broken, 



176 LITE OF JOSEPHIISTE. 

through my inability to obtain all the mercy for which 
I could plead. 

" I know that the clemency of the First Consul is 
great, his attachment to me extreme ; but the crime is 
too dreadful, that terrible examples should not be 
necessary. The chief of the government has not been 
alone exposed ; and it is that which v/ill render him 
severe — inflexible. I conjure you, therefore, citizen 
minister, to do all that lies in your power to prevent 
inquiries being pushed too far. Do not detect all those 
persons who may have been accomplices in these 
odious transactions. Let not France, so long over- 
whelmed in consternation by public executions, groan 
anew beneath such inflictions. It is ever better to 
endeavor to soothe the public mind, than to exasperate 
men by fresh terrors. In short, when the ringleaders 
in this abominable attempt shall have been secured, let 
severity give place to pity for inferior agents, seduced, 
as they may have been, by dangerous falsehoods, or 
exaggerated opinions. 

" When just invested with supreme power, the First 
Consul, as seems to me, ought rather to gain hearts 
than be exhibited as ruling slaves. Soften by your 
counsels whatever may be too violent in his just re- 
sentment. Punish — alas ! that you must certainly do 
— but pardon still more. Be also the support of those 
unfortunate men, who, by frank avowal, or repentance 
shall expiate a portion of their crime. 

" Having myself narrowly escaped perishing in the 
Revolution, you must regard as quite natural my inter 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 177 

ference in behalf of those who can be saved without 
involving in new danger the life of my husband, pre- 
cious to me and to France. On this account, do, I 
entreat you, make a wide distinction between the au- 
thors of the crime, and those who, through weakness 
or fear, have consented to take a part therein. As a 
woman, a wife, and a mother, I must feel the heart- 
rendings of those that will apply to me. Act, citizen 
minister, in such a manner, that the number of these 
may be lessened. This will spare me much grief 
Never will 1 turn away from the supplications of mis- 
fortune ; but, in the present instance, you can do in- 
finitely more than I, and will, on this account, excuse 
my importunity. Rely on my gratitude and esteem." 
Soon after this bold attempt to destroy the Consul, 
Hortense was married to his brother Louis. It was 
one of the many instances of an unfortunate union, in 
the consummation of which interested friends were the 
responsible agents. Hortense loved Duroc, an ambi- 
tious marshal of thirty — the first choice of Louis is not 
known. The ceremony was solemnized January 2d, 
1802, when she was eighteen, and Louis Bonaparte 
twenty-four. He was good-looking, and amiable in 
his youth ; but disease fastened upon his frame, and in 
both of these respects wrought sad changes. He re- 
sembled, it was thought, the Queen of Naples, his sister- 
in the expression of his face, when her countenance 
was in repose. Caring less for power, and more for 
ease, than Napoleon, he scarcely thanked him for the 
throne of Holland, whose damp and ungenial atmos- 



1V8 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 

phere made havoc with a system accustomed to the 
bland ah% and lovely sky of Italy. When setting out 
for that country, he said to the Consul, in regard to 
certain commands — " I will do what I like. Let me 
act freely, or let me remain here. I will not go to 
govern a country where I shall be known only by 
disaster." 

Hortense was an interesting woman — gifted with a 
clear intellect which had received constant culture — 
graceful and accomplished, she was admired and be- 
loved. " She was not exactly beautiful ; for the con- 
formation of her mouth and her teeth which rather 
projected, took away from the regularity of a counte- 
nance otherwise very pleasing in all its sweetness and 
benignity of expression. Her eyes, like her mother's, 
were blue, her complexion clear, and her hair of a 
charming blond. In stature she did not exceed the 
middle size ; but her person was beautifully formed.'* 
It is not singular that Josephine urged this marriage, 
and omitted nothing that might secure the object. 
She disliked the coldness of Duroc, and the absence 
of all distinction excepting as conferred by Napoleon ; 
and what was of vastly more importance, she knew 
the Consul loved Louis, and the alliance would create 
strength in the very bosom of secret foes. She was 
hated by the Bonaparte family generally, and in this 
event she anticipated a new source of hope and power 
against her detractors. But all these considerations 
are scarcely sufficient to give plausibility to so serious 
a violation of the very law and impulses of our nature. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 179 

Neither, when married, cherished affection for each 
other — their mutual kindness was rather the civility of 
respect, than the expression of attachment. Upon the 
bridal occasion, seven hundred invitations were issued, 
and the saloons of the Tuilleries were thronged with 
guests from the most brilliant ranks of society. Am- 
bassadors were looking on, or smiling gallantly on the 
queenly forms with which they were encircled, and all 
were intoxicated with pleasure but the bride. Arrayed 
gorgeousl}^, sparkling with diamonds and crowned 
with flowers, she strove vainly to hide the heavy sad- 
ness upon her heart. To every observant eye, that 
central star was under a fearful eclipse — the world of 
thought was dark and desolate. She shone on others 
with a mockery of light, that made the gloom within 
the deeper. Fair victim ! like an Eastern sacrifice to 
the grim idol, she stood before the altar an offering to 
the god of ambition. A purer motive is sought for 
than either which has been supposed, in the desire of 
Josephine to repel the slander that had obtained to 
some extent concerning Bonaparte's dishonorable love 
for Hortense. This malignant calumny might have 
affected that noble mother, and entered into her esti- 
mate of results. But doubtless Josephine, who certainly 
admired Louis more than Duroc in almost every point 
of character, believed that the mutual dislike which 
arose chiefly from previous attachments would dis- 
appeai in the intimacies of domestic life. In the 
following letter she refers to the detraction, and the 

want of devotion to each other visible in the wedded pair. 
12 H* 



180 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 



JOSEPHINE TO HORTENSE. 



" You have ill understood me, my child ; there is 
nothing equivocal in my word, as there cannot exist an 
uncandid sentiment in my heart. How could you 
conceive that I participate in some ridiculous, or per- 
haps, malicious opinions ? No ! you do not think that 
I believe you to be my rival. We, indeed, both reign 
in the same bosom, though by very different yet equally 
sacred rights ; and they who in the affection which my 
husband manifests for you, have pretended to discover 
other sentiments than those of a parent and a friend, 
know not his soul. He is a mind too elevated above 
the vulgar ever to be accessible to the passions. That 
of glory, if you will, engrosses him too entirely for our 
repose ; but, at least glory inspires nothing vile. Such, 
as touching him, is my profession of faith. I make the 
confession to you in all sincerity, in order to allay your 
inquietudes. When I recommended to you to love, or 
at least, not to repulse Louis, I spoke to you in my 
character of an experienced wife, an attentive mother, 
and tender friend, and in this threefold relation do I 
now embrace you." 

A mother's expostulations were unavailing — the cup 
of sorrow taken at the hymeneal altar was pressed to 
her lips partly by her own hand, and death only 
removed the poisoned chalice. There is touching 
melancholy in such a fate ; a bright, loving maiden, 
whose girlhood was an ordeal of trial seldom endured 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 181 

by any human sufferer, just as life began to put on its 
radiant smile, and beckon her toward the luminous 
future ; her sky was overcast, and she trod a pathway 
strewn with withered hopes and wet with her tears. 

Allusion has been made to Josephine's expectation 
of a speedy oblivion of whatever threatened the do- 
mestic happiness of her daughter; this appears more 
fully in a note to her daughter after the birth of a son. 

" What I learned eight days ago gave me the greatest 
pain ; what I observe to-day confirms and augments 
my sorrow. Why show to Louis this repugnance ? 
Instead of rendering him more ungracious still by 
caprice, by inequality of character, why do you not 
rather make efforts to surmount your indifference ? 
But, you will say, he is not amiable ! All that is 
relative. If not in your eyes, he may appear so to 
others ; and all women do not view him through the 
medium of dislike. As for myself, who am here 
altogether disinterested, I imagine I behold him as he 
is — more loving, doubtless, than lovable ; but this is a 
great and rare quality : generous, beneficent, feeling, 
and above all, an excellent father — if you so willed, he 
would prove a good husband ! His melancholy, his 
love of study and retirement, injure him in your 
estimation. For these, I ask you, is he to blame ? Is 
he obliged to conform his nature to circumstances ? 
Who could have predicted to him his fortune ? But, 
according to you, he has not even the courage to bear 
that fortune ? This I beheve to be an error ; but he 
certainly wants the strength. With his ascetic in- 



182 LIFE OF JOSEPHLNE. 

clinations, his invincible desire of retirement and study- 
he finds himself misplaced in the elevated rank to 
which he has attained. You desire that he should 
imitate his brother ; give him first of all, the same 
temperament. You have not failed to remark, that 
almost our entire existence depends upon our health, 
and that upon our digestion. Let poor Louis digest 
better, and you would find him more amiable. But such 
as he is, that can be no reason for abandoning him, or 
making him feel the unbecoming sentiment with which 
he inspires you. Do you, whom I have seen so kind, 
continue to be so at the moment when it is precisely 
more than ever necessary. Take pity on a man who 
has to lament that he possesses what would constitute 
another's happiness, and before condemning him think 
of others, who, like him, have groaned beneath the 
burden of iheir greatness, and bathed with their tears 
that diadem which they believed had never been 
destined for their brow." 

Duroc married a Spanish heiress, unattractive both 
in person and temper. He was evidently controlled 
in his choice by the fortune it secured, and lived as 
wretchedly as he deserved — " a gilded slave" — a self- 
ish, disappointed, and miserable man, when away from 
the " glory and the guilt of war." 

So does greatness fail to confer happiness. In the 
instances here given, how utterly incompetent was 
earth to bestow the boon for which the soul is ever 
struggling — contentment — how often a troubled brain 



LTFE OF JOSEPHINE. 183 

throbs beneath a coronet, and a heart breaks silently 
beneath a jewelled robe ! 

Napoleon now improved the interval of peace, in 
tranquillizing and establishing firmly the Cis-alpine Re- 
public. Whether in securing the selection of himself 
for President of the Italian commonwealth he was gov- 
erned altogether by his aspirations for power, or under 
the impression that he alone could consolidate and 
guard what he had formed, is a theme of opposite opin- 
ions. Doubtless there was a blending of motives in 
the design. Bonaparte had no confidence in the 
masses, and unbounded self-reliance ; besides, his am- 
bition was never chastened by a sense of religious ob- 
ligation, but inflamed by universal applause attending 
success which seemed miraculous. How could it be 
otherwise than that he should be possessed with the 
idea, he is said to have expressed to Josephine in the 
palace of the Tuilleries ? " Behold a palace without 
nobles ; in time I intend to render it worthy of his pal- 
ace, who is yet to become the master and arbiter. of 
the world." The meeting of deputies was held at Ly- 
ons, in January, 1802 ; and on the 26th of that month, 
he received the title of "President of the Cis-alpine 
Republic.'^ 

Here he met the wreck of his valiant army of the 
East. The surviving ofl^icers of those regiments, thin- 
ned more by fatal disease than the enemy's bullets, 
gathered once more around their leader. Greetings 
were exchanged, and tears fell from cheeks furrowed 
with age and toil, while the pavement beneath, seemed 



184 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

to tremble to the shock of their deadly onset upon the 
gallant Mamelukes ; and the mighty pyramids like gi- 
gantic sentinels, rose upon their vision, as when Na- 
poleon exclaimed, just before the resistless charge, 
" Soldiers, from the summit of yonder pyramids forty 
ages behold you !" 

Bonaparte returned to Paris, his soaring genius in 
dulging a transient repose upon the height in his path- 
way of greatness, he had just gained by a single stride, 
and gazed with prophetic eye along the upward track 
to an eminence whose solitary grandeur would bewil- 
der the hero of common mould. 

This additional honor was followed by a renewal of 
those magnificent entertainments which succeeded his 
Consular coronation. Josephine was in the full en- 
joyment of domestic peace — interrupted only by the 
parade of court, and solicitude for the safety of Na- 
poleon and the happiness of her children. Malmaison 
became her residence for weeks together, where her 
pleasures were multiplied, and made more intense by 
the absence of ceremony and the crowd of parasites 
that haunt the halls of royalty. There were often 
amusing applications for aid by those who had been 
in some way associated with the "Httle Corsican," in 
former days. Among these was his writing master 
while at Brienne. Josephine was in the cabinet when 
the poor professor, in thread-bare apparel, entered. 
After an awkward pause, with an effort that called 
forth all his courage, he announced himself to the 
Consul. With a frown and an excited air, Bonaparte 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 185 

exclaimed, " And a proper penman you made of me ! 
Ask my wife there." Josephine with a laugh made a 
pleasant allusion to the delightful letters she had re- 
ceived, and the matter passed off in a glee ; while the 
order for a pension during life was dropped into the 
hand of the wondering visitor. 

As spring came on with its freshening landscape, 
its gentle south wind, and its laughing sky, the Consul, 
accompanied with Josephine, made a tour through 
Normandy and the adjacent provinces. Her last visit 
to that part of France was made with the chivalrous 
Beauharnais, and the years since that excursion, had 
gone full of events that gave to life a sublime and trag- 
ical interest. With deep and conflicting emotions, 
her thoughts attended memory to the silent strand of 
the past — upon whose sands were the wrecks of for- 
tune, blasted hopes, and the fading footsteps of the 
loved and departed. But her bounding spirit could 
not long be desolate or sad. There were bright hours 
in this romantic travel, and bursts of enthusiasm from 
the people wherever they were recognized, that lent a 
charm to the tour, continued for more than two weeks 
through a country picturesque and peaceful ; contrast- 
ing delightfully with the exciting scenes of the few 
months before. 

Not long after their return, an incident which oc- 
curred, illustrates finely that coolness for which Duroc 
was distinguished, a trait Bonaparte admired and 
praised. The First Consul had removed his residence 
to St. Cloud, and furnished the palace in splendid style. 



186 LIFE OF JOSEPHIiraJ. 

One night, fire communicating through a flue into the 
saloon, from an overheated stove, set the grand old 
structure in flames. An officer awakened Duroc, who 
saw the conflagration, and ordering perfect silence, 
arranged a band of soldiers into the line of a fire com- 
pany, running to the nearest water. Leaping into the 
reservoir, his men followed, and the buckets passed with 
no other sound than the rustle of hands rapidly along 
the chain of men, till the ascending column of flame 
wavered and fell ; within three hours all was quiet and 
safe again. The inmates of the edifice were not dis- 
turbed, and Josephine entered her gorgeous drawing- 
room in the morning to gaze with astonishment on the 
blackened and flooded ruins. 

Events of decisive importance in the history of 
France and the career of Napoleon, now rapidly fol- 
lowed each other. The concordate re-established the 
church ; the addition of ten years to the consulship, 
and the creation of the Legion of Honor, upon the very 
ruins of institutions aristocratic in their character, 
were successive steps in the progress of the nation 
towards monarchy, and of Bonaparte to its crown and 
sceptre. The opening of the sanctuaries for religious 
worship was wholly a stroke of policy in the First Con- 
sul. It was a measure repulsive to his army, but he 
knew his influence too well in that quarter to shrink 
from enlisting an auxiliary, which had proved to be a 
wall of fire around the despotic sovereigns of Europe. 
He attended mass at Notre Dame, with the devout air 
of a monk, conciliating his colleague Cambaceres, by 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 187 

appointing his brother to the See of Rouen, and dis- 
pensing similar emohiments where moral considera- 
tions had no influence, and infidelity poured contempt 
upon the "superstitious mania." Josephine, though 
the religious element was not marked in her character, 
entered into this measure with zeal, conscious of its 
value as a means of benevolence, and of bringing back 
the exiled to their homes, while the impoverished 
priesthood, scattered and scorned, would also regain 
their privileges, and permanency succeed the fluctua- 
tions in Church and State. 

But none of the changes wrought by the fearless and 
indomitable spirit of Napoleon, conferred upon him 
more strength in his pre-eminence, than the ratifica- 
tion of peace with England, by the treaty of Amiens, 
signed April 25th, virtually conceding to him the gov- 
ernment of Republican France. It introduced the 
English ambassadors to his Court, and other distin- 
guished persons of the British realm. The impression 
Josephine made on these social occasions, was men^ 
tioned by her noble guests in after years with enthusi- 
astic pleasure. Mr. Fox, especially, was much de- 
lighted, as he was in turn admired for his simplicity of 
manner, and his resplendent talents. In the evening 
parties at Malmaison, he was always a guest, convers 
ing freely with Napoleon, or walking through the 
Botanical gardens with Josephine, where his taste was 
particularly gratified, and its suggestions sought by the 
smiling May Queen of the gay parterre, leaning upon 
his arm. So far did the Consul rely upon the ambas- 



188 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

■1 

sador's friendship, that he evidently anticipated in sul> 
sequent hostilities, the sympathy of the party of which 
Mr. Fox was the leader — a mistake he quickly dis- 
covered when threatened invasion appealed to the loy- 
alty of the nation — aroused the Lion in his sea-girt lair. 
France was again tranquil ; and while the fields be- 
gan to yield their increase, the wine-dresser to prune 
his vineyard, and the hum of active millions went up 
from peaceful cities, Paris was the vortex of dissipa- 
tion for the assembled aristocracy, representing half a 
continent of kingdoms. Masked balls, private parties, 
gaming and theatres, formed the variety in this dizzy 
whirl of exciting pleasures. The popular mind, cured 
of its democratic madness, was delirious with charac- 
teristic frivolity, which wealthy foreigners caught like 
a congenial epidemic, and cherished with a more law- 
less indulgence than example offered. The gaming 
nouses were embellished richly, and thronged con- 
tinually. Fortunes exchanged hands in a moment of 
time; \hQ millionaire became a beggar, and the penni- 
less won his pile of guineas at a single throw. Beau- 
tiful women leaned over the tables heaped with mon- 
ey, and while dark eyes flashed with unnatural ex- 
citement, the color came and went upon those fair 
faces, where love alone should have written his name 

"Upon the marble brow, 
And lingered in their curls of jet," 

till morning threw its gray light upon walls beaded 
with the dew of the languid and heated air. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 189 

If- 

The Salon des Etr angers was a favorite resort of 
these prodigals of all that is valuable in life, or peculiar 
to man as an heir of immortality. Napoleon seldom 
attended any of these convivial scenes, and never en- 
gaged in play. In fact, he was rather a model of tem- 
perance in the ordinary gratification of appetite, and 
his habits were regular and correct. Josephine had a 
relish for light amusements when not carried to excess, 
and was often present at least as spectator, in the 
nightly entertainments of the shining throng whose 
resources and energies seemed inexhaustible. Madam 
Tallien likewise attended, and Josephine embraced 
such occasions for interviews with a friend she could 
not forget, though compelled by the Consul to treat 
her cavalierly in his presence. The reasons for his 
cool treatment of this lady are not fully understood. 
The ostensible one, was her doubtful morality in her 
matrimonial affairs ; which gains force from his ear- 
nest endeavor to reform the licentious manners of the 
fashionable w^orld, even in regard to dress. He may 
have felt a little irritation in recollecting her influence 
upon his destiny, while he would arrogate to himself 
the sole honor of his unrivalled greatness ; but this 
could have been only slight if indulged at all, so long 
as the homage of mankind was the grateful incense his 
majestic mind had won. It is related by Memes, that 
Beaumarchais overheard the following conversati on 
at a party, between Josephine and Madam Tallien, 
which throws light on the subject. 

" ' I declare, my dear Theresina,' said the former. 



190 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

' that I have done all friendship could dictate, but in 
vain. No later than this morning, I made a new 
effort. Bonaparte would hear of nothing. I cannot 
comprehend what can have prejudiced him so strongly 
against you. You are the only woman whose name 
he has effaced from the list of my particular friends ; 
and from fear he should manifest his displeasure di- 
rectly against us, have I now come hither alone with 
my son. At this moment they believe me sound asleep 
in my bed in the chateau, (Tuilleries,) but I determined 
on coming to see, to warn, and to console you ; above 
all, to justify myself.' * Josephine,' replied the other 
lady, ' I have never doubted either the goodness of 
your heart or the sincerity of your affection. Heaven 
is my witness, that the loss of your friendship would 
be to me much more painful than any dread of Bona- 
parte. In these difficult times I have maintained a 
conduct that might, perhaps, render my visits an 
honor; but I will never importune you without his 
consent. He was not Consul when Tallien followed 
him into Egypt — when I received you both into my 
house — when I shared with you' — here a burst of tears 
interrupted the speaker's words. 'Calm yourself,' re- 
plied Josephine ; ' be calm, my dear Theresina ! let 
the storm pass. I am paving the way for a reconcilia- 
tion ; but we must not irritate him more. You know 
that he does not love Ouvrard, and it is said he often 
sees you.' * What, then ! because he governs France, 
does he hope to tyrannize over our hearths ? must we 
sacrifice to him our private friendships ?' At these 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 191 

words some one knocked at the door ; it was Beau- 
harnais. 'Madam,' said he, ' jou have been now more 
tlian an hour absent ; the council of ministers is per- 
haps over ; what will the First Consul say should he 
not find you on his return?' The two ladies slowly 
descended the stairs, still conversing in earnest whis- 
per, followed by Eugene." 

The suffering of a sensitive spirit is seldom disclosed 
to the multitude, unless its magnitude renders conceal- 
ment impossible. Josephine's anguish was more fre- 
quent and intense than is supposed by her admirers 
While the outward display of rank, if it changed its 
aspect, but assumed like the chameleon, a gayer color- 
ing for the one that vanished, the interior life of this 
faithful wife was filled with the darkest shades of sad- 
ness, and her heart wrung with the throes of agony. 
A cloud of apprehension, indeed, hung perpetually upon 
the horizon of her brightest prospects ; it was like a 
fragment of the tempest's ebon-folds left to foreshadow 
another desolating storm, sweeping down upon the 
fabric of her happiness. 

In May, 1802, Bonaparte was appointed First Con- 
sul for life, upon which the purpose of forming a new 
dynasty became the central object of his thoughts. 
This was fully matured in August, by an edict authori- 
zing him to appoint a successor by testamentary deed. 
The last vestige of republicanism was gone — and it 
was whispered that Josephine would be banished also 
from the palace by divorce, to prepare the way for an 
heir to the consulate. Lucien almost broke her heart 



192 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

by suggesting that if she did not have a son, the Con- 
sul must secure by another this first Hnk in the chain 
of hereditary succession from the Corsican family. 
Bourrienne relates a domestic incident which occurred 
soon afterward, disclosing her intense anxiety on this 
subject. 

" I remember that, one day, after the publication of 
the parallel of Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, Jose- 
phine having entered our cabinet without being an- 
nounced, which she sometimes did, when from the good- 
humor exhibited at breakfast, she reckoned upon its 
continuance, -approached Bonaparte softly, seated her- 
self on his knee, passed her hand gently through his 
hair, and over his face, and, thinking the moment fa- 
vorable, said to him, in a burst of tenderness, ' I en- 
treat of you, Bonaparte, do not make yourself a king ! 
It is that Lucien who urges you to it ; do not listen to 
him.' Bonaparte replied, without anger, and even 
smiUng as he pronounced the last words, ' You are 
mad, my poor Josephine. It is your old dowagers of 
the Faubourg Saint-Germain, your Rochefoucaulds, who 
tell you all these fables ! * * * Come now, you 
interrupt me — leave me alone.' What Bonaparte said 
that day good-naturedly to his wife, I have often heard 
him declare seriously. I have been present at five or 
six altercations on the subject. That there existed, 
too, an enmity connected with this question between 
the family of Beauharnais and the family of Bonaparte, 
cannot be denied." 

Josephine's fears were farther excited bv a new or 



TTFE OP JOSEPHINE. 19J\ 

der of things in the palace, x^mong the stately for- 
malities introduced, was the occupation by the Consul 
of a separate bed-chamber, in a part of the mansion 
most remote from the apartments of his wife. Until 
this arrangement they had lived together, with no 
other withdrawal from each other's society than that 
incident to the humblest station. Josephine passed 
sleepless nights, and bathed her pillow with tears. She 
would rather die than be thrust from the arms of him, 
upon whom she lavished her " wealth of love" — her 
pride of character, her affections, would all be crushed 
by the blow. To a few intimate friends she confided 
the story of her secret forebodings and grief, while she 
assumed in Napoleon's presence, that cheerfulness 
which irradiated her sweet face with smiles, and made 
her voice musical as the eeolian harp. 

The infant son of Hortense diverted the attention of 
Bonaparte, and he now cherished the design of adopt- 
ing him as the heir-apparent to his grandeur and glory. 
This circumstance, with continued evidences of affec- 
tion, revived the hopes of Josephine, and she again 
dismissed her fears. 

A few months of tranquillity were passed at St. 
Cloud, during which Josephine was active in her efforts 
for the dethroned Bourbons. She enlisted the sym- 
pathy of others whenever available, and watched the 
varying moods of the Consul with reference to the ad- 
vancement of her cherished design of their re-invest- 
ment with royalty. Her earliest associations were in 
that direction, and she had learned, as we have seen, in 



. 94 LIFE OF JOSEPHrPTE. 

adversity no less than in prosperity, to feel identified 
vith them, and to desire their restoration. Besides, 
he contemplated Napoleon's elevation to a throne with 
I shrinking of heart both natural and painful. Though 
he summit w^as dazzling w^hile the heavens were clear, 
she had been taught by history, and read in the events 
of preceding years the startling truth, that the blasts 
sweep the most fearfully there, and the cloud of rebel- 
lion at any time may enfold it, sending forth the light- 
aing to rend and desolate the aerie of grandeur. But 
negotiations, carried on with the weight of her influ- 
ence always urging every plausible reason for favor 
toward the fallen family, were at length closed amid 
the rising tumult of war. The English had shamefully 
violated their treaty within a few months after its rati- 
fication at Amiens, and in the spring of 1803, hostilities 
were renewed. Napoleon evidently did not wish at 
fliis juncture to enter the battle-field of nations — he was 
unprepared for it, in addition to motives drawn from 
the transition state of France in her internal improve- 
ments, and his unsettled policy for the future. His 
message to the Senate was a dignified expression of 
his unwillingness to muster his legions for slaughter. 
But with the necessity came the wonder-working 
energy of his genius. Naked soldiers were clothed — 
conscriptions filled the ranks with men — horses and 
money were suddenly abundant, as if created by the 
touch of the Arabian magician, or the volition of his 
own will. He made a tour through the departments, 
Josephine accompanying him and receiving evetv- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. ] 95 

where, with the Consul, the tumultuous applause of the 
people. Civic display, deafening acclamations, splendid 
presents, and wreaths of gorgeous flowers, made theii 
}jrogress a scene of joyful homage the proudest king 
might vainly desire. At Boulogne, she saw the gather- 
ed regiments of a Kingdom, still styled the Republic. 
They stretched along the coast in four distinct camps 
presenting from the heights a wall of threatening bat- 
teries, beneath whose shadow the British fleet dotted 
the ocean and haughtily watched the foe. 

The port was guarded by a flotilla stretching across 
its entrance, numbering two hundred gun-boats which 
together carried fifteen hundred cannon ; and added to 
this protection, was a massive iron chain running from 
^ort to fort along the mouth of the harbors, upon whose 
waters besides the vessels mentioned, floated seventeen 
hundred smaller craft for landing the army. Two hun- 
dred thousand soldiers waited for the command to put 
this naval force in motion, and hasten to open its more 
than two thousand pieces of ordnance upon the enemies 
of France. Never before had Josephine beheld so 
much of the terrible might wielded by Napoleon. The 
salutes which greeted him and were answered by the 
hostile thunder of English guns, she felt to be only a 
faint echo of what that vast machinery of death could 
do, when its united roar following the iron hail, shook 
the field of conflict, or went booming over a tide red 
with the blood of falling ranks of brave men as evei 
trod the deck in battle. 

It has been doubted whether after all Bonaparte in- 
13 I 



196 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tended an invasion of England — deemed it possible to 
seek and subdue the enemy upon British soil. Bour- 
rienne, to prove that it was a manoeuvre, similar to the 
one which he made when about embarking for Egypt, 
narrates the following interview with the Consul : — 

" Bonaparte came into the grand saloon where I 
awaited him, and addressing me in the most good- 
humored way, inquired, after having made a few tri- 
fling observations, ' What do they say of my prepara- 
tions for the descent upon England ?' * General,* I 
replied, ' there is a great difference of opinion on the 
subject. Every one speaks as he would wish it. Su- 
chet, for instance, who comes to see me very often, 
does not doubt but that it will take place, and hopes 
to give you on that occasion a fresh proof of his grat- 
itude and fidelity.' * But Suchet tells me that you do 
not believe it.' ' That is true, I certainly do not.' 
' Why ?' ' Because you told me at Antwerp, five 
years ago, that you would not risk France on the cast 
of a die — that it was too hazardous — and nothing has 
changed since that time to render it more probable.' 
* You are right ; those who believe in a descent are 
blockheads. They do not see the affair in its true 
light. I can doubtless land with one hundred thousand 
men. A great battle will be fought, which I shall 
gain ; but I must calculate upon thirty thousand men 
killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. If I march on 
London, a second battle will be fought ; I shall sup- 
pose myself again victorious ; but what shall I do in 
London with an army reduced three fourths, and with- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 197 

out a hope of reinforcements ? It would be madness. 
Until our navy acquires superiority, it would be a per- 
ilous project. The great assemblage of troops in the 
north has another object. My government must be 
the first, or it must fall.' Bonaparte then evidently 
wished to deceive with respect to his intentions, and 
he did so. He wished it to be believed that he in- 
tended a descent upon England, merely to fix the at- 
tention of Europe in that direction. It was at Dunkirk 
that he caused all the various plans for improving the 
ports to be discussed, and on this occasion he spoke a 
j^reat deal on his ulterior views respecting England, 
which had the effect of deceiving the ablest around 
him." 

But it is clear that the writer himself was deceived 
— the astonishing scheme was laid, and had not its 
execution been defeated, he would have rocked to its 
base the throne of George, or left the flower of his 
kingdom around that ancient seat of power. The 
nation favored enthusiastically the expedition, and 
withheld nothing that would secure it. Josephine, it 
is said, was deeply m,oved by a little incident illustrat- 
ing this popular ardor, which took place in a small vil- 
lage near Boulogne. A deputation waited on Napo 
leon, and one of the number thus addressed him : — 

" General, we are here, twenty fathers of families, 
who present to you twenty gallant youths, to be now 
and always under your orders. Accept of them, gen- 
eral ; they are able to do good service when you reach 
England. As for ourselves, we have another duty to 



198 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

discharge ; our hands shall labor the soil, that bread 
may not be wanting to the brave men destined to 
crush England." 

The encampments of Boulogne were the scene of 
varied amusements, and many rash adventures. Ga- 
ming, with its dissipation and quarrels, was indulged 
without restraint — and duels were fought. It was 
here that the combat between two hundred soldiers of 
the infantry and line, and the same number of grena- 
diers of the guard, occurred. Bonaparte's praise of 
the former, repeated by the people in snatches of inju- 
dicious rhyme composed by those he flattered, as they 
loitered at evening around the camp, was the original 
cause of the quarrel. This sword fight commenced 
just after day-dawn, and for an hour the slaughter 
went on like a gladiatorial strife, when a regiment of 
cavalry under General Hilaire, reached the ground and 
arrested the desperate game. Bonaparte reproved and 
humbled the offenders by a brief address, and by pub- 
lication of the very trifles that incensed those against 
whom their detraction was aimed. Several pleasant 
stories are told respecting the gayeties of this prelude 
to warfare w^hich wrote on the " dead list" the names 
of many gallant forms that danced in the mirth of 
" wine and wassail," till the " noon of niorht." The 
First Consul himself contributed to the merriment by 
sometimes attending the soirees in disguise — and after 
enjoying the familiarities of the pastime, would retire 
and surprise the fair entertainer with a note of thanks 
over the signature, Bonaparte. 



LIFE OF JOSKPHIXE. 199 

The return of Napoleon and Josephine to the capi- 
tal, was distinguished by the same extravagant exhibi- 
tions of affection that marked his route before. All 
that the inhabitants could do to make it a brilliant 
pageant — the triumphal march of a mysterious being, 
at the same time, hero, monarch, and citizen, was lav- 
ished freely upon him. Escaping threatened assassi- 
nation by the way, he soon reposed again in the palace 
of St. Cloud. 

One day he rode with Josephine and Cambaceres 
in the park after three span of noble bays, presented 
lo him at Antwerp. The notion seized him of driving 
them himself for experiment ; and taking the reins, he 
mounted the coachman's seat. The horses were in- 
stantly aware that a hand unused to their government, 
guided the bit, and lifting their heads, they snuffed the 
air of freedom, and dashed away at their own lightning 
speed. In spite of Cambaceres' cry of " Stop ! Stop!'' 
and Caesar's shout as the carriage approached the gate- 
way of the avenue, " To the left ! to the left !" the 
coach struck the heavy pillars like a ship the rock, 
overturning it and bringing the bays to a sudden halt. 
Josephine and the Second Consul escaped from the 
wreck but slightly injured, and Bonaparte, thrown sev- 
eral rods, was taken to his apartment insensible. After 
recovery and mutual repartee, he alluded with a seri- 
ous air to the nearness of death in this accident ; then 
folding his arms in thoughtful mood, said to Josephine, 
with a. hurried tone, " But what is death ? It is merely 
a sleep without dreams I" And yet he was sad in thf 



200 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE, 

momentary contemplation of a slumber that would dis- 
pel forever, a dream more splendid than any mortal 
beside had ever known — a spell that made the wide 
earth his theatre of glory, and poured down the long 
future the music of his name. He evidently attached 
no value to life as probation for an endless state — nor 
did he think deeply upon a destiny beyond that hori- 
zon whose circle touched the cradle and the grave. 
The want of early religious culture, and consequently 
the dullness or perversion of his moral sensibiUties, 
together with a quenchless thirst for distinction, ren- 
dered him wholly forgetful that it requires two worlds 
to complete the career of man, and make out his title 
to immortality ! 



CIIAPTEE VII. 

JOSEPHINE AND THE BOURBON CONSPIRATORS. DUKE d'eNGHIEN. HI6 

DEATH. — Josephine's grief and her sympathy for the conspira- 
tors. — Bonaparte's movements. — his ambition. — views of the sen- 
ate. BONAPARTE BECOMES EMPEROR OK FRANCE. OATH ADMINISTEREB 

to the legion of honor. emotions of josephine. royal court. 

excursion to boulogne. — the princess of baden. incidents.— 

Josephine's forebodings. — religious marriage of Josephine.— tthe 
coronation. 

We have seen Josephine emerge from comparative 
obscurity, and rise step by step twoard the summit of 
earthly grandeur ; each successive stage of advance- 
ment seeming designed as well as fitted to develop and 
display those exquisitely feminine charms, which nature 
had so prodigally lavished upon her. Placed by the 
astonishing fortunes of her husband in ever-shifting 
and untried social positions, where the utmost purity 
and refinement of nature, with the most delicate tact 
and grace of manner, were necessary to give to her 
station, and that of her husband, dignity and respecta- 
bility, and even to secure the continued possession of 
acquired advantages, her intuitive sense of propriety 
seems never to have been at fault ; while her sunny 
good nature and the tenderness of her sympathies, 
gained the hearts of all about her. These tender 
sympathies were now to be called into exercise toward 



202 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

an unfortunate class hitherto unknown : namely, the 
victims of her husband's tyranny. Bonaparte, the 
soldier of fortune, by his genius and energy restoring 
something like order to the distracted councils of his 
adopted country, rising by the superiority of his talent 
and character, from height to height of power, until the 
name only of sovereignty was wanting to his ambi- 
tion — has commanded our admiration ; for hitherto he 
had in form at least respected the rights and liberties 
of the people, and was yet unstained with crime. But 
now that success had left him little to aspire to, he 
began, hke common and vulgar tyrants, to seek to 
secure his dominion by sweeping from his path what- 
ever might endanger it, even should it cost the sacrifice 
of innocent blood. 

Several friends of the Bourbon family, among whom 
were Georges, the Polignacs, Pichegru, Moreau, and 
others of less celebrity, were about this time suspected 
of a conspiracy to restore that dynasty, and place a 
Bourbon on the throne. 

Tliey held frequent meetings in Paris, to consult as 
to the bias of public sentiment, the expediency of 
revolution, &c., and at length seem to have been con- 
vinced of the impracticableness of their schemes, and 
to have been about quietly to depart from Paris, when 
they were suddenly arrested by the police, (who up to 
this time seem to have watched and connived at their 
proceedings,) and were thrown into prison to await 
their trial. In the mean time there resided in the 
Duchy of Baden, on the frontier of France, a young 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 20S 

prince of the Bourbon family, the Duke d'Enghien, 
a grandson of the Prince De Conde, a soldier, who, 
after fighting many years in the continental wars, was 
living on a pension allowed him by the British govern- 
ment. On pretence that he w^as privy to the designs 
of the conspirators in Paris, and intended to profit by 
them when matured, he was seized by night and 
hurried to the citadel of Strasburg, where he remained 
until orders could be received from Paris, then carried 
to Vincennes, and after the mockery of trial, was shot 
by a file of soldiers, and buried in the ditch surround- 
ing the fortress. The whole procedure was so illegal. 
so sanguinary, so uncalled for, that it astonished 
Europe ; and as it is an instructive lesson, as to the 
effects of a lawless ambition, we quote a passage. 

" This sanguinary scene took place at the Castle of 
Vincennes. It was General Ordener, commandant of 
the horse grenadiers of the guard, who received orders 
from the minister at war to proceed to the Rhine, to 
give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of 
New Brissac, which was placed at his disposal. This 
general sent a detachment of gendarmerie to Etten- 
hiem, where the Duke d'Enghien was arrested on the 
15th of March, 1804. He was immediately conducted 
to the citadel of Strasburg, where he remained until 
the 18th, to give time for orders being received from 
Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and promptly 
executed, for the carriage which conveyed the unfor- 
tunate prince arrived at the barrier at eleven o'clock 

on the morning; of the 20th. It remained there for five 

I* 



204 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

hours, and then departed by the exterior boulevarde on 
the road to Vincennes, where it arrived at night. 
Every scene of this horrible affair took place during 
the night — the sun did not even shine upon its tragic 
close. The soldiers had orders to proceed to Vincennes 
during the night ; it was at night that the fatal gates 
were closed upon the prince — at night the council 
assembled to try him, or rather to condemn him with- 
out trial. When the clock struck six on the morning 
of the 21st of March, the order was given to fire, and 
the prince ceased to live. Here let me be permitted 
to make a reflection. When the dreadful intelligence 
of the death of the Duke d'Enghien reached Paris, it 
excited a feeling of consternation which recalled the 
recollection of the days of terror. Ah ! if Bonaparte 
could have seen the gloom which pervaded the capital, 
and compared it with the joy which was exhibited on 
the day when he returned victorious from the field of 
Marengo, he would have considered that he had tar* 
nished his glory with a stain which nothing could ever 
efface." 

In the examination in the council chamber, many 
interrogatories were put to him respecting his family, 
his employments, his acquaintance with Pichegru and 
others of the conspirators, and nothing in his answers 
tended in the least to implicate him in any plan of 
ambition or scheme o^' treachery. On the contrary 
everything showed him to be ingenuous, noble, and 
unsuspecting. He earnestly entreated an interview 
with tha First Consul, and much blame has attached to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHOTE. 203 

Savary, the commander of the fortress, for not delay- 
ing his execution. This event filled all minds with 
horror. 

Chateaubriand, who was then high in favor with 
Napoleon, and had just been appointed minister pleni- 
potentiary to the Vallais, instantly resigned his appoint- 
ment on hearing of the Duke's death. This was a 
strong rebuke to Bonaparte, for as Bourrienne re- 
marks, "it said plainly, 'You have committed a crime, 
and I will not serve a government which is stained 
with the blood of a Bourbon !' " In England, Bona- 
parte was constantly styled in some of the leading 
journals, " the assassin of the Duke d'Enghien." But 
no heart felt the blow more acutely than that of Jose- 
phine. She had from some cause feared this step on 
the part of her husband, and had earnestly endeavored 
to dissuade him from his purpose. On the fatal morn- 
ing of the 21st of March, when Napoleon's favorite 
attendant came into his room, he found him alone, pale 
and haggard, and complaining of having passed a 
dreadful night. He rose, but before he had finished his 
toilet, Josephine rushed into the room from her own 
distant apartments, with her countenance bathed in 
tears, and every personal care neglected, crying,'" The 
Duke d'Enghien is dead ! oh my friend, what hast thou 
done ?" and threw herself on his bosom. Napoleon is 
said to have shown extraordinary emotion, and to have 
exclaimed, " The wretches ! they have been too hasty !" 
He then supported Josephine along the corridor to her 
own chamber, seeking to impart to her that consolation 



206 LIFE OF JOSEPHESTB. 

which he vainly sought for himself. Her grief was at 
least unattended by remorse. We will add a narrative 
related by Madam Decrest, of Josephine's own account 
of her inability to prevent the sad catastrophe. 

" The Emperor was cruelly counselled. Of himself 
he never would have conceived the idea of such a de- 
sign. Once resolved, no power on earth could prevent 
its execution, so firm was his determination in all 
things, and so great the dread he entertained of being 
taxed with irresolution. But I am persuaded that 
often has he lamented over a too prompt obedience on 
the part of others. There are facts which I dare not 
disclose, lest I should give up to infamy the real authors 
of the death of the Duke d'Enghien. History will 
speak and the truth be known. Finally, General 
Moreau proved the innocent cause of that fatal resolu- 
tion. Napoleon and he were conversing about the 
Bourbons, when the former asked if there was a soldier 
in the family ? ' Yes,' replied the general, * they are 
all brave ! The duke d'Enghien is besides an excel- 
lent officer, and much loved by the soldiery. He is a 
worthy scion of the house of Conde.' 'Is he am- 
bitious V 'As to that I cannot answer; but from his 
manner of fighting he appears to aspire to a glory 
which cannot long be satisfied with foreign service.' 
'This eulogium,' added the empress, 'disquieted Na- 
poleon, and several times he reverted to the subject. 
In order to calm these apprehensions, a crime was pro- 
posed to him. ISTever can I cease to think with abhor- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 207 

rence of those who urged him to it. They have proved 
his worst enemies' " 

One affecting incident in this bloody tragedy, proves 
the appreciation by all who knew her, of the tender- 
ness and sympathy of Josephine's nature. The young 
Duke at the time of his arrest, was tenderly and affec- 
tionately attached to a young lady, to enjoy whose so- 
ciety he had taken up his residence in the town where 
she lived. When he found that he had but a few mo- 
ments to live, he placed his picture and a lock of his 
hair in the hands of a messenger to be conveyed to 
Josephine ; that through her it might reach the object 
of his affections. * « 

The conspirators, as they were termed, had their 
trial during the May and June following the Duke 
d'Enghien's death, with the exception of Pichegru, 
who was found dead in his prison. The trial seems to 
have proved that assassination had never been con- 
templated ; and that the design was mainly to ascer- 
tain the true state of public feeling, which had been 
represented by some factious intriguers as favorable to 
the Bourbons. The prisoners were all young, and their 
situation created universal sympathy. Still, Bona- 
parte, as if having like Macbeth, resolved on the death 
of all whose lives might be dangerous to his future 
throne, sanctioned the decree of the special tribunal 
which condemned to death twenty of these unfortunate 
men ; a decree wdiich filled Paris, and indeed all 
France, with mourning. Much effort was made by the 
prisoners and their friends to obtain from Bonaparte a 



208 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

repeal of the sentence, which was successful in respeci 
to six of them. The others were executed As will 
readily be supposed, no one was more zealous and ar- 
dent in endeavors to procure their pardon than Jose- 
phine. She had protested to a friend that the death of 
the Dui^e d'Enghien " embittered every moment of her 
life ;" and now she was to have the anguish of seeing 
twenty families, many of them among the noblest in 
the land, thrown into the deepest affliction by the exe- 
cution of this barbarous sentence. It was to her, too, 
that all appeals were made by the heart-broken peti- 
tioners ; and in the presence of friends, she touchingly 
lamented her inability to.. answer all of them. 

While Napoleon was thus awing the disaffected by 
his summary proceedings against suspected traitors, he 
was not neglecting a more effectual means of strength- 
ening his government, in making it popular with the 
people. France, at his accession to power, was almost 
in the condition of a country that has been overrun 
and pillaged by a foreign army : Bonaparte bent all the 
energies of his 'wonderful intellect to her restoration 
to prosperity. Public improvements, from the most 
minute to the most gigantic, were projected and exe- 
cuted under his own supervision in every part of his 
kingdom ; while the celerity of his own movements, 
and the system of espionage by which he watched the 
movements of those who were employed in his service, 
seemed to give him something like omnipresence. 
Conscious of, and perhaps even over-estimating his ex- 
traordinary powers, flushed with the success that had 



LIFE OF .TOSEPHnfE, 209 

hitherto attended him in every enterprise he had nu 
dertaken, he ah^eady began to conceive himself "the 
Man of Destiny," whose office on earth was to over- 
throw the existing governments of Europe, perhaps of 
the world, and to form on their ruins one mighty em- 
pire of which himself should be the centre and the 
ruler. As he could not but admit, however, that 
though he might seem to be a "god," "yet he must die 
like men, and fall like one of the princes," it was with 
him also a most important object to secure a successor 
to whom he 'might bequeath this vast inheritance of 
power and responsibility. To pave the way for the 
accomplishment of these designs, he had long aspired 
to make himself Emperor of France, with the right of 
the hereditary succession in his own family. Yet with 
consummate tact that distinguished him, he chose to 
keep himself in the background, and not to receive this 
new dignity, till it should seem to be forced upon him 
by the urgent entreaties of the senate and the people. 
Constantly influencing the opinions of the senate by 
secret agencies, he found in .that body the most com- 
plete subserviency to his wishes, while in the name 
of Liberty, Equality, and the Republic, he was about 
to assume a power more absolute than had been enjoy- 
ed by any sovereign since Charlemagne. The senate, 
while fervent in their congratulations to Bonaparte on 
his escape from conspiracy, or as they termed it, from 
the daggers of England, entreated him to "consolidate 
his work," meaning that he should make himself Em 
peror, and establish hereditary succession. The agents 



210 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of government throughout France, had long been so- 
liciting the First Consul to grant for the people what the 
people did not want ; in short, everything was ripe for 
the change of the republic into an empire. On the 
18th of May therefore. Napoleon was named Emperor, 
and the Bonapartean dynasty established. At the 
same time, suddenly, as if by the aid of magic, the 
ancient order of things, the distinctions of rank, titles, 
decorations, &c., were restored. 

On Sunday, the 15th of July, the Emperor appeared 
for the first time before the Parisians surrounded by 
all the pomp of royalty. On that day the Emperor 
and Empress, attended by a magnificent cavalcade, 
repaired to the church of the "Invalides," where they 
were received by the clergy, who went through certain 
religious ceremonies, when, after some flattering ad- 
dresses, Bonaparte rose, and said in a firm voice, 
" Commanders, officers, legionaries, citizens, soldiers ! 
swear upon your honor to devote yourselves to the 
service of the empire, to the preservation of the integ- 
rity of the French territory, to the defence of the Em- 
peror, of the laws of the republic, and of the property 
which they have made sacred — in short, swear to 
concur with all your might in maintaining liberty and 
equality, which are the bases of all our institutions. 
Do you swear ?" 

*' Each member of the Legion of Honor exclaimed 
' I swear ;' adding, ' Vive Vempereur !' with an en- 
thusiasm it is impossible to describe, and in which all 
present joined." 



LIFE OF JOSEPHTlsrE. 211 

Josephine had now verified in her experience the 
prediction of the sibyl in her native island ; she was 
Queen, nay, Empress of France ! But was she happy ^ 
Read an interesting letter addressed by her to her 
husband during his temporary absence from home, and 
see with what mournful foreboding she contemplated 
an event which had raised her to the summit of earthly 
glory : 

" My Friend, — For the tenth time, perhaps, have 
I perused your letter, and must confess that the 
amazement into which it threw me subsides only to 
give place to sorrow and apprehension. You persist, 
then, in the resolution to re-establish the throne of 
France, and yet not to restore those who were deposed 
by the Revolution, but to seat yourself thereon ? What 
power, you ask — what grandeur — and above all what 
advantage in this design ! And for my part, I venture 
to reply. What obstacles present themselves to its 
success ! how^ great the sacrifices which must be made 
before its accomplishment can be secured ! how far 
beyond calculation the consequences should it be rea- 
lized ! But let us admit that your purpose does succeed, 
will your views terminate with the founding of a new 
empire ? Will not your power, opposed, as to a cer- 
tainty it must be, by the neighboring states, draw j^ou 
into a war with them ? This will probably end in 
their ruin Will not their neighbors, beholding these 
effects, combine in turn for your destruction ? While 
abroad such is the state of things, at home how numer- 
ous the envious and discontented ! — how many plots to 

14 



212 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

disconcert, and conspiracies to punisii ! Kings will 
despise you as an upstart, the people will hate you as a 
usurper, your equals as a tyrant ; none will compre- 
hend the utility of your elevation ; all will assign it to 
ambition or to pride. Doubtless, there will not be 
wanting slaves who will cringe to your power, until, 
backed by another which they esteem a more formida- 
ble influence, they will seek to elevate themselves on 
youi ruin. Fortunate, also, beyond hope, if steel — if 
poison ! — a wife, a friend, dare not give pause to alarmed 
imagination on images so dreadful. This brings me to 
myself, a subject about which my concern would be 
small indeed if I only were interested. But, with the 
throne, will there not likewise arise the desire of new 
alliances ? Will you not consider it necessary, by 
new family ties, to provide for the more effectual 
security of that throne ? Oh ! whatever such connec- 
tions might be, could they prove like those formed at 
first in propriety, and which affections the most tender 
have since consecrated ! I stop at this perspective, 
which fear — must I say love ? — traces in an appalling 
futurity. You have alarmed me by your ambitious 
flight ; restore my confidence by your return to modera- 
tion." 

A friend calling upon her about this time, and find- 
ing her in a garden, saluted her. hy the title of " Your 
majesty." " Ah !" she replied, with a tone and manner 
that went to his heart, '* I entreat that you will suffer 
me, at least here, to forget that I am an Empress." 
Ail chroniclers agree, that while in public she was 



LIFE 02" JOSEPHINE. 213 

receiving cono-ratulations and adulation from all classes 
with a grace and benignity that charmed all around 
her, her heart was ill at ease ; constantly fearing that 
Napoleon would sacrifice to ambition and selfish policy 
her whole domestic peace and happiness. Besides, the 
etiquette of a court which was attempted to be rigidly 
maintained around her, was irksome in the extreme to 
one whose natural ease and grace never needed the 
curb of formal rules. She is said to have written : 
" The nearer my husband approached the highest step 
to which fortune sometimes elevates men, the dimmer 
became my last gleam of happiness. 'Tis true ] 
enjoyed a magnificent existence. My court was com- 
posed of persons of great name, of ladies of the first 
rank, who all solicited the honor of being presented to 
me. But I could no longer dispose of my time. I was 
constrained to submit at all times to the rigorous 
usages of etiquette, and the Emperor directed that it 
should be as severe as it anciently had been at the 
chateau of Versailles. He was receiving from every 
part of France congratulations upon his advent to the 
throne ; while I myself sighed in contemplating the 
immense power he had acquired. The more I saw 
him loaded with the gifts of fortune, the more I feared 
his fall." 

The determination of Bonaparte to form a court 
unlike that of his predecessors in the outward morality 
at least of its members, was honorable to him, and 
approved by Josephine, excepting his extreme views 
on the subject. He beheld in the dissoluteness of tlie 



214 LIFE OP JOSEPHIIiTE. 

nobility and courtiers of former reigns the slow progress 
of a social disease, which more than any other cause 
brought on the convulsions in state, that shook down 
the political edifice, amid the groans and slaughter of 
millions. But his impetuous spirit erred in excessive 
caution which excluded those the Empress and even 
himself in better moods, would have favored with 
appointments among the royal retinue. This will be 
seen in Josephine's letter to Madam Girardine, formerly 
Duchess d'Aiguillen, who was a fellow captive with 
her, and it will be recollected aided kindly Madam 
Beauharnais. 

" My DEAR Friend, — I am most afflicted — and far 
indeed from beholding my wishes fulfilled, as ancient 
friends may suppose, who will doubtless believe, that 
if I do not see them it is because I have forgotten the 
past. Alas ! no ; on the contrary, I remember it but 
too well, and my thoughts dwell upon it more than I 
would ; for the more I think upon what they did for me, 
the greater is my sorrow at being unable to do now 
what my heart dictates. The Empress of France is 
but the first slave in the empire, and cannot acquit the 
debts of Madam de Beauharnais ! This constitutes the 
torture of my life and will explain why you do not oc- 
cupy a place near me ; why I do not see Madam Tal- 
lien ; in fine, why several ladies, formerly our confi- 
dential friends, would be strangers to me were not my 
memory faithful. The emperor, indignant at the total 
disregard of morality, and alarmed at the progress it 
might still make, is resolved that the example of a life 



LITE OF JOSEPHIISrE. 



215 



of regularity and of religion shall be given in the palace 
where he commands. Desirous of strengthening more 
and more the church re-established by himself, and un- 
able to change the laws appointed by her observances, 
his intention is at least to keep at a distance from his 
court all those who may have profited by the possibili- 
ty of divorce. This he has promised to the pope ; and 
hitherto has kept his word. Hence the cause of his re- 
fusing the favor I asked of having you with me. The 
refusal has occasioned me unspeakable regret ; but he 
is too absolute to leave even the hope of seeing him re- 
tract. I am thus constrained to renounce the pleasure 
which I had promised myself of being constantly with 
you, studying to make you forget the sovereign in the 
friend. Pity my lot in being too public a personage to 
follow my own inclination, and cherish for me a friend- 
ship, the remembrance of which gives me now as much 
pleasure as its reality afforded consolation in prison. 
Often do I regret that small, dark, and dismal chamber 
which we shared together, for there at least I could 
pour out my whole heart — and was sincerely beloved 
in return." 

In speaking of the etiquette of the court of Napoleon, 
it is proper to say, that if the Emperor and Empress 
conformed to it with a grace which gave it dignity, this 
was by no means the case with the " new" men and 
women on whom had been conferred posts of honor in 
the establishment. Much awkwardness was doubtless 
displayed, and many blunders committed by these 
'' parvenus," as they were termed by those aristocrats 



216 LITE OP JOSEPHIIO]. 

and other members of the ancient regime, to whom the 
manners of a court were familiar. Napoleon, who if 
he might be said to /ear anything, feared ridicule ; and 
who seemed to regard it as essential to his prosperity 
to conciliate the favor of the ancient noblesse, called as 
many of that class as possible around him ; and insisted 
on their punctilious observance of all the rules which 
had guided the conduct of the nobility of "the old 
school." An instance is related, probably with some 
exaggeration, when in the first progress made by their 
imperial majesties, a drawing-room was to be held in 
one of the cities on the Rhenish frontier : — 

" The important affair of presentation occupied of 
course the thoughts of every one who had any claim 
to that honor. One of the ladies aspirants to this dis- 
tinction, knowing a friend who had been presented, 
wrote for instructions, and received the following: 
' You make three courtesies ; one on entering the sa- 
loon, one in the middle, and a third a few paces farther 
on, en pirouette.'* This last proved a complete mys- 
tery, and had nearly turned all the respectable heads in 
Cologne, the scene of expected operations. A con- 
sultation was called, the letter communicated, and 
deep deliberation ensued. Many of the ladies were 
old — en pirouette ! — very difBcult ; some of German 
blood, were tall — en pirouette I — very awkward ; some 
were young — en pirouette ! — might tumble — very bad 
that ; some were short — en pirouette ! — looked squat, 
and they drew themselves up; in fine, all found the 

* En pirouette — whirling on the point of the loei-. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIIfE. 217 

reverence en pirouette to be a very questionable 
experiment. At length, a member of the divan pro- 
posed the alternative, that since resigning the honoi 
was not even to be thought of, they should prepare by 
exercise and practice, for duly appearing in the court 
circular. No sooner said than done ; the decision 
gave universal satisfaction. The conclave broke up 
and for the next fifteen days, in all the drawing-rooms 
of the v-enerable city of Cologne, from morning till 
night, the ladies were twirling away like so many 
spinning-tops or dancing dervishes. Nothing was 
talked of during the same space but these evolutions : 
how many circumgirations one could make and yet 
keep her feet ; how many falls another had got, or how 
gracefully a third performed. Happily, on the evening 
when the court did actually arrive, and consequentl} 
on that preceding the ceremonial, which had given rise 
to all this activity, the original propounder of the 
motion bethought her of calling upon one of the Em 
press' ladies for still more precise instructions. Th 
redoubted pirouette was now found to have been mis 
understood, implying simply a gentle inclination, iii 
rising, towards the personages of the court ; and Jose 
phine had the satisfaction of being amused by the 
recital in private, and thus escaped the mortification ol 
beholding her visitors of the morrow transferred intc 
so many rotary machines." 

For Josephine, " the etiquette of which at first she 
chiefly complained, was that which compelled her tc- 
remain seated while she received those who had re 



218 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

cently been her equals, or even her superiors in rank." 
But if obliged to assume this semblance of superiority 
she quickly removed all the coldness and formality it 
might have occasioned, by her friendly warmth of 
manner toward her old acquaintance. Even her hum- 
ble domestics found her al-ways interested in whatever 
related to theii health or comfort, or their establishment 
in life. She would sometimes even submit to be 
annoyed by intrusion and importunity, rather than 
wound the feelings of those who applied to her. 

With all her native gracefulness of manner — -she 
plainly felt more embarrassment in the observance of 
imperial forms than Napoleon. She once remarked 
upon this subject, " Most truly do I regard the Empe 
ror as a man who has no equal. In camps, at the 
council-board, they find him extraordinary, but in the 
interior of his palace he ever appeared to me still more 
remarkable." 

Bonaparte, in selecting his marshals, planning a de- 
cisive battle, and in the ordering of his court, exhibited 
the same profound knowledge of human nature, and 
sublime confidence in his own unaided powers, what- 
ever the emergency that demanded their action. He 
looked for qualities not titles, in those he called about 
him to carry forward measures that came from the 
crucible of his intense thought, bearing alone his " im- 
age and superscription ;" and despised pomp except 
when indispensable in the centralization and support 
of his regal authority. Josephine understood this 
phase of his character perfectly, and thus spoke of it 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIISTE. 219 

in the charity and admiration of a noble wife. " Lan- 
nes, who enjoyed full license of speech, made mockery 
of what he termed ' the hypocrisies of political wor- 
ship ;' but, estimating such things at their real value, 
the Emperor regards them under relations -more ele- 
vated, and conceives that, in the eyes of the people 
they conduce to restore to power the majesty and 
ascendency which so many years of anarchy had de- 
stroyed. He grants, in truth, that their principal 
influence springs from the personal qualities of those 
invested with the supreme rule ; but he maintains, 
that, without equalling or superseding these qualities, 
ceremonial institutions may supply' their place with 
advantage. In supporting such a system, Napoleon 
shows himself at least very disinterested, for who can 
stand less in need of appliances to impose upon men 
than one who seems born to govern ? In proof of his 
argument, he adduces the example of a crowd of 
princes who have reigned, so to speak, rather seated 
or lying than standing upright, but whose couch, 
guarded by the barriers of etiquette, has been respect- 
ed like a sanctuary." 

The Empress, while thus moving amid the splendor 
of her exaltation, continued to embrace gladly every 
opportunity of alleviating the sorrow of those who had 
suffered in the revolutionary struggles of the nation. 
A note addressed to Madam de Montesson, (mother- 
in-law of Louis Philippe, Napoleon's successor in maj- 
esty and dethronement,) upon receiving an elegant gift 
from her, accompanied with beautiful specimens of 



220 LIFE OF JOSEPHIKTE. 

embroidery wrought by Madam la Tour and her daugh- 
ter, as an expression of gratitude for the Empress' in- 
terposition in behalf of their relatives, the Polignac^, 
is another turn to the kaleidescope of her manifold 
virtues. 

" Being prevented from offering in person my good 
vi^ishes on this day, I console myself in the assurance 
that you give me credit for their sincerity. I send 
you two vases, which will recall me to your remem- 
brance, though the flowers upon them are far from 
being so beautiful as those painted by your hand upon 
my charming table of white marble. I value it as 
everything deserves to be valued that comes from you, 
and request you again to accept my thanks. Marshal 
Berthier tells me he dines with you to-day. He loves 
you ; and on that account have I commissioned him 
to repeat, in my name, how much I regret not being 
able to follow my own inclination, which would quite 
naturally lead me to Romainville, to join your family 
and numerous friends, at the head of whom I have the 
presumption to place myself, though I can but so rarely 
enjoy my share of the pleasure which they derive from 
a conversation agreeable to all, instructive and useful 
to most. 

" The poor woman whom you recommended to me, 
is satisfied with a small appointment for her son. It 
will afford time for something better. Be assured, 1 
will not forget them. Present my thanks to the ladies 
of your circle, for the beautiful works I received from 
tliem. It is decided, that every one who approaches 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 221 

jou shall possess some perfection. Why, then, am 1 
so far distant ? Adieu, dear mamma. Love me, and 
let me ever have your advice : for it is very difficult 
to fill the place which I occupy to the satisfaction of 
all — and that is what I wish." 

Josephine has been accused of extravagance. In- 
deed, it cannot be doubted that her expenses seemed 
extremely lavish to her husband, who would at any 
time " rather expend a million francs, than see a thou- 
sand wasted." But though we must own that her fa- 
cile nature made her too ready to purchase of those 
who were constantly pressing upon her the most costly 
articles, with the most cogent reasons for her buying 
them ; still, a record of her expenses, had she kept one, 
would probably show, that much of her property was 
bestowed in charitv. Her heart melted at a tale of 
suffering, nor could the frequent impositions practised 
upon her, make her hand less ready to bestow its 
bounty. She herself said, in answering a charge of 
extravagance conveyed to her from her husband by a 
friend : " When I have money, Bourrienne, you know 
how I employ it. I give it principally to the unfortu- 
nate who solicit my assistance, and to the poor emi- 
grants. But I will try to be more economical in fu- 
ture. Tell the Emperor so, if you see him again. 
But is it not my duty to bestow as much charity as I 
can ?" 

Soon after Bonaparte was declared Emperor, and 
before his coronation, he determined to visit Boulogne, 
and distribute among the army there assembled the 



222 LITE OF JOSEPHINE, 

decorations of the Legion of Honor. It was arranged 
that the Empress should leave her home on the same 
day, and meet him in Belgium. Josephine, as was 
usual when she journeyed without her husband, was 
attended by several ladies and gentlemen of the court; 
and every circumstance of the journey, the routes, the 
stopping places, the addresses to the authorities, &:c., 
were unalterably determined upon beforehand by Na- 
poleon, and set down in a manuscript volume of in- 
structions. To these Josephine rigidly adhered, con- 
stantly silencing any suggestion of change, with the 
expression, " He has said it, and it must he right." 
Never was the amiability and sweetness of her dispo- 
sition more conspicuous than on these journeys. Every 
opportunity of showing attention to the tastes and feel- 
ings of her attendants, was embraced with readiness, 
and with an unostentatious simiplicity, that won their 
hearts. Sometimes her good nature was excessive, 
and exposed her to vexation from the pretension of 
some whom concession always renders exacting 
When travelling, Josephine would often breakfast in 
some delightful spot, under the shade of a tree, over- 
looking a fine country. On these occasions, if any 
worthy persons struggling with poverty, or any objects 
of charity came under her notice, they were sure to 
be munificently provided for. 

Her grace and tact were conspicuous in receiving 
and replying to congratulatory addresses from the au- 
thorities in the cities or towns through which she 
passed. Her self-possession never forsook her, and her 



LIFE OF JUSivFTTTXE. 223 

words were treasured by her hearers, like those of the 
fairy in the fable, whose speech was jewels and pearls. 
Napoleon in the mean time enjoyed a military dis- 
play which was to him one of the proudest occasions 
in his career of glory. In the vicinity of Camps Bou- 
logne and Montreuil, eighty thousand men under Mar- 
Ishal Soult, were assembled upon an extended plain, to 
attend the distribution of the Legion of Honor. In 
the centre of this circular champaign, was a hill, from 
whose base the ground rose with a gentle slope, form- 
ing a grand natural amphitheatre for the imposing 
ceremony. On this elevation stood Napoleon, en- 
circled by his splendid staff, while around the dazzling 
pageant, the magnificent host spread away in diverg 
ing lines, like *' so many rays" from the central orb. 
The Emperor surveyed the scene a few moments with 
a glowing eye and smile of triumph, then rose, and 
from that emerald throne beneath an azure dome, with 
a loud voice uttered again the oath administered at 
the Hospital of Invalides but a short time before. It 
was followed by a burst of enthusiasm that filled the 
very heavens with acclamations, until the idol of thai 
worship, might have fancied that even the solemn 
ocean slumbenng in the distance was waiting his com- 
mand. Indeed, so it seemed soon after to those ardent 
devotees of genius, when a storm which had suddenly 
arisen and threatened the destruction of the flotilla 
lying out of harbor, just as he reached the coast, ceased 
to rage, and beneath a brightening sky, the vessels sail- 
ed safely into port. Napoleon returned to the camp. 



224 LIFE OF josephinf;. 

and the entire plain became the theatre of pastimes 
and rejoicings. When evening darkened the landscape 
rockets went up in a constant blaze, and columns of 
li2:ht made an illumination which was visible from the 
British side of the strait. While the Emperor was de- 
lighted with these exciting demonstrations of loyalty, 
Josephine was more quietly receiving the homage of 
the people. She had reached Aix la Chapelle, and dis- 
pensing with all unnecessary etiquette, lived in her 
miniature court, and frequented the baths. One eve- 
ning she observed that her ladies were destitute of en 
tertainment and inclined to ennui. Her generous 
spirit immediately resolved on some new adventure. 
She proposed a visit to a model of Paris, of which she 
had just heard, remarkable both for its resemblance to 
the original, and its beauty. The chevalier M. d'Har- 
ville was about summoning the cortege witfi the impe- 
rial carriages, when Josephine insisted on walking to 
the hall of exhibition. He protested against a liberty 
which bordered on indecorum, but in vain. Scarcely 
were the group in progress, before the news spread, 
and the illuminated streets were thronged with the 
populace, so that with difficulty she pressed through 
the dense crowd, and finally arrived at her saloon, fol- 
lowed by the applause of the multitude. This natural- 
ness of character, which was proof against adulation 
and honors, was no less admirable than rare. 

At Aix la Chapelle she was joined by her husband 
He did not conceal the fact that he had been made 
acpuainted with all the circumstances of the Empress 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 226 

and her attendants, nor his suspicions which cvei 
thronged him Hke an army of grim spectres. Jose- 
phine's very kindnesses were tm'ned into weapons of 
calumny by secret enemies. An aged officer unaccus- 
tomed to court, was presented, and immediately seated 
himself upon the same sofa with the Empress. She 
was unwilling to mortify or wound the heart of the old 
soldier, and he was permitted to withdraw at leisure. 
It was reported to Bonaparte that she had submitted 
to such a familiarity on the part of General Lorges^ 
the commandant at Aix la Chapelle, who was a young 
and handsome man; this of course prepared him for 
a domestic storm, so far as his unaided will could 
create one. As usual in such affairs, Josephine quiet- 
ly gave the facts, and left them to take silent effect 
upon him, and calm his passions. Conscious inno- 
cence sustained her, although a frown from Napoleon, 
fell like the bolt and the gloom of the thunder-cloud 
upon her sensitive nature. But these difficulties 
passed, followed by a succession of brilliant displays 
of popular feeling. The princes of the Rhenish Con- 
tederation crowded around the new Sovereign of 
France, to render their homage, and for hours together 
a cavalcade of loyal citizens would emulate each other 
m expressions of transport over the enthronement of 
their republican king. An incident is related of their 
entrance into Mayence, en route to Paris, that brings 
the imperial travellers in strong contrast, and discloses 
the cruelty of Bonaparte to Josephine, when his pride 
was wounded, or his anger kindled. 



226 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

" At Coblentz Napoleon and Josephine again sepa- 
rated, the former to reach Mayenne by a new road 
which he had caused to be constructed along the 
banks of the Rhine, the latter to ascend the river by 
water. The voyage should have terminated by eleven 
o'clock of the second day, but the two yachts which 
carried the Empress and her suite encountered a 
severe storm near Bingen, where they put up for the 
night, and on starting next day some confusion arose 
in the relays stationed to d-rag the flotilla against the 
stream. This, with Josephine's indisposition, caused a 
delay of four hours, and she arrived at Mayence only 
at three o'clock. This was precisely the hour which 
the Emperor had appointed for his own entree, and 
the inhabitants w^ere thus reduced to choose between 
whom they would attend. The Empress obtained. 
*the most sweet voices;' and while the ramparts and 
quays overlooking the Rhine, crowded with an eager 
population, resounded with acclamations of ' Long live 
the Empress !' her lord was left to traverse empty 
streets, where the houses, shut up and deserted, sent 
forth not a single voice to say ' God bless him !' In 
this guise his carriage arrived in the court of the 
palace, at the same instant Josephine appeared at 
the opposite entrance, surrounded by the authorities, 
and accompanied seemingly by all of man, w^oman and 
child, contained in Mayence. This was beyond en- 
durance — at least beyond Napoleon's ; so giving one 
short, pettish nod, he turned on his heel and shut him- 
self up in his apartment. The court was informed 



LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 22. 

that the Etnperor and Empress would dine alone 
Seven, the usual hour — eight — nine o'clock passed 
and no invitation to the wonder-struck courtiers to re- 
join the circle in the drawing-room. At length the 
summons arrived ; but, on entering, they found no- 
body. A few minutes after they beheld Napoleon 
leave Josephine's apartments and retire to his own 
favoring them with his usual curt salutation of ill-hu 
mor as he crossed the saloon. The first lady of hono^ 
then entered to Josephine. She was in tears, and ex 
tremely unwell. She had endured for hours a scene 
of violence and outrage, Bonaparte accusing her of 
having intentionally retarded her arrival in order to 
interfere with his entrance, reproaching her with u 
systematic design of captivating the suffrages of the 
public." 

At the latter place she met the young Princess ol 
Baden, a lady recommended by Talleyrand to Bona- 
parte, as a suitable partner of his throne when he should 
for reasons of state policy, divorce his faithful Jose- 
phine. Her surprise and gratification w^ere extreme, 
to find this person, who had been represented as a mo- 
del of beauty and grace, the perfect contrast of herself 
in both these respects ; nor was her satisfaction dimin- 
ished that Napoleon himself seemed struck with this 
contiast. Her apprehensions from this quarter were 
therefore quieted, alas, how soon to be revived in an- 
other, and to be but too fearfully realized! 

A story is related of the two Princesses of Baden, 

which shows that however deficient they may h»^' 
16 J'' 



228 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

been in elegance, they were not wanting in a certain 
cleverness. Having waited on the Empress to accom- 
pany her to the opera, she perceived they had come 
without shawls; and as the evening was cold, she 
good-naturedly put one of her own around each of 
them. This courtesy they acknowledged the next 
morning in a complimentary billet ; assuring her ma- 
jesty they would keep the shawls as a memorial of her. 
Of course there was nothing for it but to accede with 
as good grace as possible ; rather a difficult task, as 
the shawls were white cashmere !* 

During the stay at Mayence, Josephine was again 
comparatively happy. There were bright mornings 
when neither military nor civic duties demanded the 
attention of Napoleon ; and the family group went out 
upon the green banks of the Rhine, or a peaceful 
island sleeping on its bosom, and after breakfasting be- 
neath the shade of the foliage, walked along the mar- 
gin of the dashing waters — whose murmur with the 
music of birds, was more grateful to the Empress than 
the salute of artillery, or the acclamations of the ex- 
cited and fickle multitude. The peasantry often looked 
with silent wonder upon a scene so novel and splendid. 
To their eye the rural banquet of that royal household, 
was a spectacle of bewildering magnificence, more 
like a glorious vision, than the common life of mortals. 
Sometimes these humble spectators were objects of 
charity, and arrested the attention of Bonaparte or 

* A cashmere shawl was at that time worth, in France, nearly as 
much as a small estate. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 229 

Josephine. Observing a poor woman on one occasion 
beholding them with a sad interest, he sent for her, 
and inquired " If she had ever dreamed she was rich ?" 
With hesitation she answered, " I have thought the 
person who possessed five hundred florins, (about fifty- 
pounds,) would be the richest in the world." " Her 
dream is a httle too dear," Napoleon remarked, "but 
it matters not — we must realize it." The sum was 
collected and paid to the dreamer, who gazed with 
amazement and rapture at a pile of gold which was all 
her ambition had in fancy ever grasped. Not long 
afterward, the Empress was taking a morning walk 
around the island, when she encountered a woman in 
the garb of extreme poverty, sitting upon the ground, 
and nursing a babe. Josephine took the infant in her 
arms, and kindly caressing it, dropped a tear upon its 
cheek ; an expression of sympathy, but doubtless also 
of painful regret that she was still unblest in her gran- 
deur, with the very gift without which, she knew a 
fearful uncertainty hung over her prospective happi- 
ness. The innocent child looked up and smiled upon 
the loving face shaded with conflicting emotions, and 
tossed its little arms toward the musing and grieving 
Empress. Dropping a purse of a hundred francs into 
the mother's hand, she turned away, followed by the 
blessing of a humble and grateful subject. The even- 
ings were passed in conversation or light amusement. 
As before stated, upon the authority of Josephine, Bon- 
aparte, when pleased and interested, conversed with 
great fluency and power. He not unfrequently intro. 



^'bt LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

duced sculpture, music or painting, and discussed with 
freedom the great masters in art. He was acquainted 
with metaphysics, and engaged in animated argument 
with Cambaceres, who had studied Kant and admired 
his system, upon ethical questions, or disputed points 
in mental science. But love was the most common 
topic ; and we are assured that he could expatiate upon 
that theme with eloquence and dramatic effect not un- 
worthy of his model in this department, the celebrated 
Talma. His appreciation of female character, how- 
ever, as has been seen, was small — his early experience 
and subsequent observation, added to his poor opinion 
of the masses, and his unbounded self-esteem, gave to 
woman a rank entirely below her true position when 
elevated by culture, and ennobled by religious princi- 
ple. Reclining carelessly on a sofa, like all contem- 
plative minds, he was particularly fond of talking or 
sitting quietly at the hour of twilight, and as darkness 
deepened about him, his intellect gathered strength, 
and some of his finest thoughts were uttered. Much 
has been said concerning his brief repose, and mirdcu- 
lous endurance of wakefulness and exhausting activity. 
Upon this subject, a member of the travelling party 
has sensibly written : "One thing I had formerly re- 
marked, but more particularly during the present 
journey, namely, the mistake under which the world 
labored respecting ISTapoleon. The vulgar belief is, that 
he almost never sleeps, and works constantly ; but I 
see that if he rise early to inspect his regiments he 
takes s^ood care to make up for it at night. Yester- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 23] 

day, for instance, he got on horseback exactly at five 
for a review, but in the evening he retired at nine, and 
Josephine told us he had gone to bed. As to his im- 
moderate use ot" CO tFee, again, in order to keep olf sleep 
— he takes one cup after breakfast, and another after 
dinner. Rut it is ever thus w^ith the public: when an 
individual, placed in fortunate circumstances, is en- 
abled to accomplish great things, mank'ud instantly 
convert these into marvels, and place them to the ac- 
count of genius." 

This journey, though attended with some slight mor- 
' tifications, was always spoken of by Josephine, as one 
of the most delightful of her life. It seemed to ban- 
ish from her mind for a time the sadness occasioned 
by her hopeless exertions in behalf of many of the vic- 
tims of an alleged conspiracy ; while Napoleon's kind- 
ness encouraged the transitory hope that her dark 
forebodings might never be realized. 

Napoleon was now at the summit of power in 
France, but it was his desire to go through the impo- 
sing ceremony of a public coronation. No bishop in 
the empire was, however, competent to the task ; the 
Pope of Rome, Christ's vicar upon earth, must be 
called from the Vatican to Paris, to assist in the splen- 
did pageant. The audacious summons was complied 
with ; the venerable Pius VII. was received by the 
Emperor and his court at Fontainebleau, conducted 
with every mark of respect to the Tuilleries, and en- 
tertained there for many months, with the honors due 
to his exalted station. The Empress especially seems 



232 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

from his arrival, to have felt for him the sincerest re- 
gard and veneration ; and a letter which she ad 
dressed to him previous to her coronation, gives a 
pleasing proof of her humility and desire to be guided 
aright in the new rank to which Providence had 
raised her. 

THE EMPRESS TO HIS HOLINESS PIUS VII. 

•* Whatever experience of human change the knowl- 
edge of our religion may have taught, your holiness 
will view, doubtless not without astonishment, an ob- 
scure woman ready to receive from your hands the 
first among the crowns of Europe. In an event so far 
beyond the ordinary course, she recognizes and blesses 
the work of the Almighty, without daring to inquire 
into his purposes. But, holy father, I should be still 
ungrateful, even while I magnified the power of God, 
if I poured not out my soul into the paternal bosom of 
him who has been chosen to represent his providence 
— if I confided not to you my secret thoughts. The 
first and chief of these is the conviction of my own 
weakness and incapacity. Of myself I can do noth- 
ing, or, to speak more correctly, the little I can do is 
derived solely from the extraordinary man with whom 
my lot is cast. This falling back upon myself, by 
which I am sometimes cast down, serves, upon more 
mature reflection, to encourage me. I say in my own 
heart, is not the arm which causes the earth to trem- 
ble, amply sufficient to sustain me ? But how many 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 233 

are the difficulties which surround the station to which 
that arm- has raised me ! I do not speak of the cor- 
ruption which, in the midst of greatness, has tainted 
the purest minds ; I can rely upon my own, so far as 
in this respect not to fear elevation. But from a 
height whence all other dignities must appear mean, 
how shall I distinguish real poverty ? Ah ! truly do I 
feel that, in becoming Empress of the French, I ought 
also to become to them as a mother : at the same time, 
what would it avail to bear them in my heart, if 1 
proved my affection for them only by my intentions ? 
Deeds are what people have a right to demand from 
those who govern them ; and your holiness, who so 
well replies to the respectful love of your subjects by 
continual acts of justice and benevolence, more than 
any other sovereign, is qualified to instruct me by ex- 
ample in the efficacy of this doctrine. Oh, then, holy 
father ! may you, with the sacred unctions poured 
upon my head, not only awaken me to the truth of 
those precepts which my heart acknowledges, but also 
confirm the resolution of applying them to practice !" 

It cannot be denied that the Pope was under obliga- 
tions to Bonaparte, for his exertions in behalf of the 
re-establishment of the Romish religion, which, during 
the reign of terror, had been well-nigh superseded in 
France, by the most impious infidelity and atheism. 
The Emperor now further testified his respect for re- 
ligion, by causing his marriage, which had only been a 
legal ceremony performed by a magistrate, to be con- 



234 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

secrated by a nuptial benediction from Cardinal Fesch, 
in the private chapel of the Tuilleries. 

The coronation surpassed in magnificence all that 
had ever preceded it. The dress of the Empress w^as 
in itself elegant, and arranged with that taste in which 
she excelled ail the ladies of her time — the effect must 
have been unequalled. A drapery of white satin, em- 
broidered on the skirt wdth gold, and on the breast 
with diamonds; a mantle of -the richest crimson velvet 
lined with ermine, and satin embroidered with gold ; a 
girdle of gold so pure as to be quite elastic, and set 
with large diamonds, formed her dress ; and on her 
head she wore a splendid diadem of pearls and dia- 
monds, the workmanship of w'hich had employed the 
first artists of the capital. How her thoughts must 
have reverted to her first marriage, when, as she used 
to relate w'ith great simplicity, she carried the few 
trinkets given her by Beauharnais, for some days in 
her pocket to exhibit to admiring acquaintances. 

Bonaparte's dress was quite as gorgeous, and must 
have reminded him that he had indeed assumed the 
weight of empire, for the mantle alone is said to have 
weighed eighty pounds. Indeed, he was by no means 
elated with this display of finery, but submitted to it as 
part of the system of personal aggrandizement, to 
which he adhered at whatever sacrifice of comfort. 
We can readily imagine that the hardy soldier must 
have been much less at his ease, in his white silk 
stockings, and white buskins laced and embroidered 
with gold, that when shortly afterward he appeared on 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 235 

the plain of Marengo, on the anniversary of his great 
victory there, in the identical cap and cloak pierced 
with bullet holes which he had worn in that battle, and 
there, surrounded by thirty thousand of his troops, dis- 
tributed the decorations of the Legion of Honor. 

The imperial carriage, panelled with mirror, and 
drawn by eight horses like the ancient regal coaches 
of the empire, attended by horsemen to the number of 
ten thousand, and double lines of infantry a mile and a 
half in length, and gazed at by four hundred thousand 
spectators, proceeded to the church of Notre r)ame, 
which had been magnificently embellished for the 
occasion. The incessant thunder of artillery rolled 
over that tumultuous sea of humanity, whose shouts 
rose in one loud acclamation. While the grand pro- 
cession was slowly moving forward, the clouds which 
had hung darkly over the city suddenly parted, and the 
clear sunlight fell upon the gay uniform, golden trap- 
pings, and burnished arms, till the reflection was a 
blended brightness that gave the finishing halo of glory 
to this regal march. Arriving at the archiepiscopal 
palace, the cortege paused, while beneath a high arch 
way from which floated the banners of the Legion of 
Honor, the royal group entered the cathedral, where a 
throne was prepared for the most influential and re- 
markable sovereign of Europe. It was placed opposite 
the principal entrance on a platform, whose elevation 
was reached by twenty-two semi-circular steps richk 
carpeted and gleaming with golden bees. Here were 
standing the high officers of the realm in solemn state. 



236 LIFE OF JOSEPHIWE. 

The drapery of the throne was crimson velvet, nndei 
a canopy of which appeared Napoleon and Josephine, 
attended by his brothers, and the members of the 
imperial family. Fom' hours were consumed in the 
religious services by a choir of three hundred, and 
martial airs from a band whose number was still 
greater, filling the wide arches of that temple with a 
tide of harmony such as never before was poured over 
a silent throng within its consecrated walls. At length 
the Emperor arose, and taking the diadem of wrought 
gold, calmly placed it upon his brow. Resolved to 
impress the people from the commencement of his 
reign, that he ruled in his own right, Pius was not 
permitted to touch the bauble that made him King- 
his own hand alone was laid upon it. Then raising 
the crown designed for Josephine to his head, he passed 
it to her own. Josephine, always natural, and there- 
fore always interesting, as with folded arms she kneeled 
gracefully before him, then rising, fixed upon him a 
look of tenderness and gratitude, while tears fell from 
her eyes. The Bible was laid upon the throne ; Napo- 
leon placed his hand upon it, and in a voice which was 
distinctly heard throughout the immense edifice, pro- 
nounced the customary oaths of office. A simultane- 
ous shout broke from all the vast assembly, which was 
echoed by the crowds without ; while the thunders of 
artillery proclaimed to more distant places that Bona- 
parte was Emperor of France. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

FEANCE AXD JOSBPHINE AT THIS PERIOD OF HISTQRT. — REJOICINGS OF 

THE PEOPLE. IMPORTANT EVENTS. TOUR TO MILAN. NAPOLEON VISITS 

BRIENNE. WITH JOSEPHINE CROSSES THE ALPS. PLAIN OF MARENGO. 

THE CORONATION AT MILAN. SOJOURN THERE. NEWS OF PROBABLE 

HOSTILITIES. JOSEPHINE AT GENOA. THE RAPID TRAVEL TO PARIS. 

PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. — JOSEPHINE REGENT OF FRANCE. LETTER 

TO CAMBACERES. NAPOLEOn's VICTORIES. ARRIVAL OF A COURIER. 

MARRIAGE OF EUGENE. JOSEPHINe's LETTER UPON THE EXPECTED 

MARRIAGE OF HER NIECE STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS. THE ROYAL 

FAAIILY. DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS. BONAPARTE S HABITS AND ILLNESS. 

HUNTING EXCURSIONS. HATRED OF BONAPARTE's RELATIVES TOWARDS 

JOSEPHINE. HER KINDNESS IN RETURN. ^NAPOLEON's MOVEMENTS. 

There is that stirring interest in the position of 
France immediately after the restoration of monarchy, 
and also of Josephine, which belongs to the consumma- 
tion of a long series of events — a point of observation 
from which we can look back and mark intelligently 
the deep and decisive causes lying below the agitations 
that revolutionized governments, and changed the as- 
pect of the world. We gaze not only upon the past as 
from an illumined height, but almost prophetically read 
the future in the same broad light. In the very capital 
where four years before the blind Polyphemus, of a 
horrid democracy, had declared with ghastly triumph 
and bacchanal shouts, " Royalty is abolished forever !' 
the joyous salutation rang over assembled thousands 



238 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

and a throne of imposing grandeur, " Long live the 
Emperor !" Within the temple-courts where altar and 
cross were demolished, and "There is no God," was 
unblushingly uttered amid the vilest blasphemies, the 
venerable Pope reverently stood, and pronounced the 
benediction of Heaven ; while the Bible was solemnly 
recognized as the hope and guardian of the nation, 
upon the ear of one who so recently was a ca})tjve 
rembling in sight of the crimson guillotine, fell the 
swelling acclamation, "God bless the Empress!" 

Through the manifold phases of revolutionary com- 
motion, France had become tranquil again under a 
sceptre ; and Josephine, after the strangest contrasts in 
condition — the smile of fortune and the midnight 
gloom of unutterable sorrow, was more than queen 
of a proud and prosperous kingdom. Although op- 
pression and famine exasperated the people of Fi'ance, 
until revolution was as inevitable, as the eruption of a 
volcano when its sea of fire is lashed into billows, they 
were wholly incapable of self-government : inconstant 
in native character, unenlightened in regard to the 
basis of a true republic, and wanting well nigh univer- 
sally the religious element of strength, they could do 
no more than trample in the dust the symbols of 
power, raze from its foundation the civil fabric, and 
fling the reins of authority upon the necks of a lawless 
mob. Therefore after the wild pastime was over, and 
exhaustion succeeding the terrific convulsions, created 
the necessity of a protector, they were ready to cry 
with the enthusiasm of men who had at last reached 



LIFE OF J0SEPHINI3. 239 

the goal of their hopes and bloody struggles, " God 
save the King!" 

For weeks after the coronation, which took place 
December 2d, 1804, Paris was the centre of jubilant 
festivity. The authorities of the city at a fete given 
by them in the apartments selected for Josephine in 
the Hotel de Ville, presented her with a full toilet ser- 
vice of massive gold, and other expressions of loyalty 
and personal regard. The same evening, as if the 
popular joy vaulted to the very heavens, a magnificent 
balloon, in which was a constellation of lamps, and 
around which was an iron net- work forming a gigan- 
tic crown, was cut from its fastenings, and rose direct- 
ly above the capital, then slowly sailing southward, 
this imperial globe of light became a vanishing star, 
disappearing from the straining vision of the multi- 
tudes, whose voices made " the welkin ring.^' The 
shining machine traversed half of the continent, and 
crossing the Alps more rapidly than the conqueror had 
ever done, whose glory it heralded, fell after a circuit 
of nine hundred miles in fifteen days, into Lake Brac- 
ciano, to the astonishment and alarm of the peasantry 
and fishermen, who witnessed its descent from the 
peaceful sky to the bosom of the waters. 

The day after the coronation, two great events Id 
the annals of Europe, and consequently of the new 
dynasty, had transpired ; — the treaty concluded be- 
tween England and Sweden, and the declaration of 
war by Spain with the former power. England in her 
irritation toward France, without the shadow of a 



240 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

valid reason, claimed the right of searching four 
Spanish frigates on their way from Mexico to Cadiz ; 
the demand was repulsed, and a battle was the result 
followed by proclamation of war. In the message to 
the Legislative Assembly communicated in person at 
its openmg towards the close of the year, Bonaparte 
alluded to this affair, in language that created a sensa- 
tion throughout Europe : " It would have afforded me 
pleasure, on this solemn occasion, to have seen peace 
reign throughout the world ; but the political principles 
of our enemies — their recent conduct towards Spain, 
sufficiently show the difficulty of fulfilling that wish 
I have no desire to aggrandize the territory of France, 
but to maintain her integrity. I have no ambition to 
exercise a greater influence over the rest of Europe, 
but I will not lose any of that which I have acquired 
No state will be incorporated with the empire, but 1 
will not sacrifice my rights nor the ties which connect 
us with the states which I have created." Napoleon 
therefore again contemplated soon entering the field 
with his hitherto invincible army. Josephine foresaw 
the probability of another general warfare, and as ever, 
shrank with horror she dare not express, from the pros- 
pect. Unutterable sufferings and the hazard of all 
the hero had won, was the painful picture before her 
thought. 

Bonaparte now resolved to strengthen his reign by 
re-moulding his Cis-alpine republic into an appendage 
of the Empire, as the Kingdom of Italy. In April, ac- 
companied by Josephine, he set out for Milan to se- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 241 

cure the crown of Lombardy. At Fontainebleau, the 
Emperor left Josephine for Brienne, which he had not 
visited since he left the military school, to revive early 
associations amid scenes made familiar by the pastimes 
of boyhood. It had the magical effect on his feelings 
every one has known who, after a long absence from 
the home of childhood, has gone back with the mem- 
ory of eventful years contrasting with its quiet pleas- 
ures and delightful dreams. Memes thus pleasantly 
records some of the reported incidents of that ex- 
cursion. 

" After passing the night in the chateau de Brienne, 
he got up early in the morning to visit La Rothiere, 
formerly a holyday haunt, and the cottage of dame 
Marguerite, a woman who lived in the forest, and at 
whose abode the collegians, in their rambles, were 
wont to be supplied with eggs, cakes, and milk. On 
such occasions each paid his share, and the good dame 
had not, it seems, forgotten, that regular payment 
might be depended on when young Napoleon was of 
the party. The Emperor had inquired about the old 
woman over night, and heard, with equal surprise and 
pleasure, that she still lived. Galloping almost alone 
through the valleys of the forest, he alighted at a little 
distance, and entered the cottage. ' Good morning, 
dame Marguerite ; so you have no curiosity to see the 
Emperor?' 'Yes, indeed, good master, I am veiy 
anxious to see him, and here is a basketful of fresh 
eggs I am to carry to the chateau, and then I will try 

to gel a sight of the Emueror ; I shall easily know 

K 



242 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

him, for I haA'e seen him often before now, when he 
came to taste my milk ; he was not Emperor then, bui 
o' my troth, he knew how to manage his comrades, 
my milk, eggs, cakes, and broken plates, were sure to 
be paid for when he was present; he began by paying 
his own score, and saw that every one else paid.' ' So, 
dame Marguerite,' replied the Emperor with a smile, 
' you have not then forgotten Bonaparte ?' ' Nay, 
nay, my good master, people don't soon forget a young 
man of his stamp ; we all remember that he was cau- 
tious, serious, and sometimes even melancholy, but al- 
ways good to the poor. I am no great witch, but 
could have told that he would have made his way/ 
' He has done pretty well, has he not ?' asked Napo- 
leon, laughing. ' O' my troth, master, that he has/ 
said the old woman, to whom Napoleon, during this 
short dialogue, had approached quite close, but keep- 
ing his back to the door, and consequently to the prin- 
cipal light. Turning now suddenly round, the light 
streamed full upon his countenance — the good dame 
started, blessed herself, and seemed striving to collect 
her reminiscences of the past. To help her memory, 
Napoleon rubbing his hands, and assuming the tones 
and manners of his youth, called out, * So. ho ! dame 
Marguerite, some milk and fresh eggs ; we are all 
dying of hunger.' The old woman, not quite assured, 
began to examine the emperor very attentively. ' Ah, 
dame Marguerite,' said the latter, ' time has changed 
us both ; and you perceive it would not have been so 
easy as you just now thought to recognize the Em- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 243 

peror ; but you find we are old acquaintances.' The 
poor creature dropped upon her knees — Napoleon 
raised her with an expression of the utmost kindness, 
saying, ' Of a truth, my good mother, I am as hungry 
as a student — have you nothing to give me ?' Eggs 
and milk were got ready, Napoleon helping himself, for 
joy had almost put the old woman beside herself. 
Having thus made a hearty repast, the Emperor rose 
to depart, and giving his ancient hostess a purse of 
gold, said, * You know, dame Marguerite, I like every- 
body to pay their score. Adieu, 1 will not forget you.' " 
Rejoining the Empress, they resumed their tour to 
Lyons, and shared the sumptuous hospitality of Cardi- 
nal Fesch. It was decided to cross the Alps by Mont 
Cenis, and for the adventure two elegant sedans were 
forwarded from Turin. There was no grand high- 
way, as soon afterward, bridging the chasms, and the 
traveller, like the wild goat, had often to climb the per- 
ilous steep in a path untrodden before. Josephine 
avoided the beautiful conveyance ordered expressly 
for her, and preferred, whenever possible, to advance 
by her elastic step, to walk beside Napoleon, breathe 
the bracing air, and behold w^ith kindling eye the sea 
of glittering summits, the gorges and their foaming tor- 
rents, and the ice-fields stretching away in cold and 
majestic desolation. That passage was a novel and 
sublime spectacle. The sovereign of an empire, with 
his charming queen, toiling up the heights over which 
he had led conquering armies — his thoughts busy with 

those mighty scenes — hers wandering over the v»^aste 
16 K 



244 LIFE OF JOSEPHINIC. 

of wonders, and above them through eternity, of which 
the solemn peaks seemed silent yet eloquent witnesses 

From Turin the tourists' next place of rendezvous 
was Alessandria, near the plain of Marengo ; and he 
could not resist the inducement to stand once more 
upon that field which had rocked to one of the world's 
decisive battles, and sent his name like a spell-word 
around the globe. He ordered from Paris the old uni- 
form and hat which he had worn on the day of con- 
flict amid the smoke of the terrible struggle, and then, 
while in fancy he saw again the meeting battalions, as 
when he wrung from the outnumbering foe victories 
that astonished the heroes of every realm, he reviewed 
with imperial dignity the national troops in Italy. 
Reaching Milan, the ancient crown was brought from 
seclusion, and the dust in which it had been entombed 
removed from the neglected symbol of royalty. In the 
grand Cathedral of the city, the second in magnificence 
to St. Peter's, another coronation was had. Napoleon 
receiving the crown from the archbishop's hand, and 
placing it, as before, upon his own head. 

He repeated, during the ceremony, in Italian, these 
words — "God has given it — woe to the gainsayer;" 
raising the iron circlet also to the brow of Josephine. 
The assemblage of no*bility and beauty dispersed ; Na- 
poleon calmly received their display of loyalty, and the 
gay Milanese again, with wonted hilarity, thronged the 
market-place and busy streets of the capital. Next 
came the public formalities of appointing Eugene Vice- 
roy of the new kingdom. The occasion was brilliant 



LIFE OF JOSEPHI]?nB. 246 

and imposing — especially gratifying to his noble mother, 
who was a deeply interested spectator of the scene. So 
the succeeding weeks, like those after the festivities at 
Paris, were crowded with demonstrations of gladness, 
that made the whole period one gala-day of rejoicing 
and social dissipation. 

There is a charming little island in the Olona, to 
which the royal pair often resorted to escape the ex- 
citement of these unceasing pleasures ; and while the 
confused murmur of the distant city died away in the 
tranquillity of nature, would sit down to a morning re- 
past, and then stroll over the green esplanade, whose 
border was laved by the mirror tide. In one of these 
promenades they encountered a poor woman who had 
just left her miserable cabin, and gazed with surprise 
upon the strangers Bonaparte paused, and kindly ad- 
dressed her : — 

" How do you live, my good woman ? are you mar- 
ried ? how many children have you ?' * Sir, I am very 
poor, and have three children, whom we have difficulty 
in bringing up, for my husband, who is a day-laborer, 
has not always work.' ' Well, how much would make 
you perfectly happy?' asked Napoleon. 'Ah! sir, a 
great deal of money.' ' Well, but once more, how 
much would you wish ?' ' Oh, sir, at least twenty 
louis, (about 16/.) but what prospect is there of our 
having twenty louis ?' The Emperor ordered 3000 
francs (125/.) in gold to be given her. The rouleaus 
being opened, and the contents poured into her lap, at 
the sight of such a quantity of gold, the poor woman 



^'46 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

nearly fainted away. ' Ah ! sir/ said she, * ah ! madani, 
it is a great deal too much — and yet you do not look 
as if you could sport with the feelings of a miserable 
woman.' Josephine reassured her, saying, in the gen- 
tlest accents, ' You can now rent a piece of ground, 
purchase a flock of goats, and I hope, he will be able 
tn bring up your children comfortably.' " 

At Milan the first intimations of threatening dissat- 
isfaction, on the part of Austria and Russia, reached 
the Emperor. Although he continued his tour through 
the peninsula, so rich in picturesque scenery and his- 
toric recollections — in everything that awakens thought 
and kindles the imagination — his mind was occupied 
with coming events, whose foreshadowing he beheld 
in the blackening horizon of the north. Arriving at 
Genoa, the tidings of a coalition were confirmed, based 
in part at least, it was apparent, upon the coronation 
in Milan. To Josephine the brief stay in the " City 
of palaces," was more attractive than any transient 
residence during their travel had been The citizens 
were polity and attentive — the air delightful as the sea- 
breeze of her native island — and the charming bay, made 
more beautiful by floating gardens of orange-trees and 
flowers, constructed expressly for her amusement. It 
was a pause in their hurried progress, which refreshed 
Ler languid frame, and soothed like a lovely vision her 
weary heart. The departure was impetuous, for the 
eagle eye of Napoleon was on the tokens of a hasten 
ing tempest, and he caught in fancy the thunders of 
its terrible shock. The imperial carriage glided like a 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 247 

spirit along the highway, and the lash fell with increas- 
ing rapidity upon the foaming steeds. When for a 
moment there was a halt to change the horses, water 
was dashed on the smoking axle, and again the wheels 
revolved, till they -seemed self-moving, while their low 
hum only broke the silence, except the occasional shout 
of Napoleon, " On ! On I we do not move !" 

Reaching Paris, he remained a few days, and then 
passed on with the same lightning speed to Boulogne, 
to rally his forces for the Rhenish boundary, and the 
campaign of Austerlitz. He issued orders to the com- 
manders of the Army of Invasion, to be ready, ujjon 
the first hostile movement by Austria, to advance 
against her. His vast arrangements went forward 
with usual precision and haste — the army went wild 
with enthusiasm in view of the campaign ; and the 
marvellous activity of their leader made him their won- 
der and their idol. Tv:enty thousand carriages con 
veyed the battalions, as if by a magical flight, from 
Boulogne to the beautiful Rhine, upon whose crreen 
banks a hecatomb of youthful soldiers, who had impa- 
tiently waited for the conflict, were trodden in gore 
beneath the iron hoof. Napoleon returned to Paris to 
complete his preparation for taking command of the 
French Army. On the 24th of September, 1805, he 
left the capital with Josephine, who, attending him to 
Strasburg, was there compelled to part from him. and 
hasten to the palace, to enter upon her duties as regent 
of the empire in Bonaparte's absence. Cambaceres, 
archchancellor, was selected to be her adviser and aid. 



24b LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

to whom she addressed a letter, which discloses her in- 
tense solicitude, her clear judgment, and sterling sense, 
that, in connection with her extreme tenderness and 
unaffected modesty, form a character we admire with 
new devotion at every view, like the artist's affection 
for a faultless form some master has chiselled. 



JOSEPHINE TO CAMBACERES. 

" Sir, — To-morrow, as you know, in absence of the 
Emperor, I am to give audience to the Senate and the 
different authorities. In a conjuncture of such mo- 
ment, two things are needful — to inform you of my in- 
tentions, and to receive your advice. In this my ne- 
cessity, to whom can I more properly apply than to the 
distinguished personage who possesses the Emperor's 
entire confidence, and whom France regards, with 
reason, as his worthy representative ! 

" The various addresses have been communicated 
to me, and I send you an outline of the terms in which, 
I conceive, I ought to reply. 

" I remind the Senate, that as fathers of their coun- 
try, and conservators of her institutions, to them be- 
longs the sole duty of maintaining a balance between 
the different powers of the state, not permitting them- 
selves to encroach upon any one. To the legislative 
body, I say that their functions are to judge and to pass 
laws, particularly those relating to taxation, without 
meddling in the march of government, which such in- 
terference would impede. I call to the remembrance 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 249 

of the council of state, that for them has been reserved 
the important duty of preparing, by previous discussion, 
good internal laws, and a durable legislation. To the 
ministers I state, that they form neither a corporation 
nor even a legislative commission — neither the admin- 
istration nor the government ; but that, under the title 
of superior agents of the government, and first com- 
missioners of its chief, they execute and cause to be 
executed, orders which are the immediate consequences 
of legislative determinations. To the clergy I ex- 
plain, that they form a portion of the state, while the 
state never is, and never can be transferred to them ; 
that their sole and exclusive province is the conscience, 
upon which they are to act so as to form citizens to the 
country, soldiers for the territory, subjects for the sove- 
reign, and virtuous fathers of families. To the magis- 
tracy I say, that applying without interpreting the laws, 
in unity of views, and identity of jurisprudence, they 
are to seize with sagacity the spirit of the law, recon- 
ciling the happiness of the governed with the respect 
due to governors. To the savans I acknowledge, that 
the gentle empire of the arts, of science, and literature 
tempers whatever might be too austere in arms, which 
yet, in a season of transition and trial, are indispensable. 
The manufacturers and merchants are reminded, that 
they should have but two thoughts, which at bottom 
are one and the same, the prosperity of our own pro- 
auctions, and the ruin of those of England. Finally, to 
the agriculturalists it is stated, that the ♦reasures of 
France are buried in the soil, and that by the plough- 



250 LIFE OF JOSEPHINi:. 

share and the spade they are thence to be extracted. 
To the heroes of either service I have nothing to say — 
this palace is filled with their exploits ; and from under 
a canopy of standards, conquered by their valor, and 
consecrated by their blood, do I speak. 

" Let me know speedily, and with perfect frankness 
whether I am worthy thus to address the august assem- 
bly of my hearers." 

Scarcely had Josephine thus shown herself equal to 
her responsible station, before Napoleon was in the 
midst of battle. On the 7th of October, he had cross- 
ed the Danube in face of the enemy, and turned the 
living tide of men from his triumphal path — on the 8th, 
Murat fought the fierce battle of Wertingeri|^ taking 
two thousand Austrian prisoners ; on the 9th, the de- 
feated army retreated from Guntzburg, pursued by the 
victorious French to the gates of Augsburg which they 
entered, and proceeding to Munich, it was also in their 
possession on the 12th. On the 14th, occurred the 
battle of Memingem, when six thousand Austrians sur- 
rendered to Marshal Soult, and Ney wrung, with un- 
rivalled valor, Elchingen from the hand of the enemy ; 
and on the 17th, the grand consummation in the capit- 
ulation of Ulm, crowed the ten days' work with glory, 
the world had never known hitherto in the annals of 
conquest. 

This was followed by the splendid victory of Aus- 
terlitz, on the anniversary of the coronation, which de- 
cided the struggle, opening to the French the gates of 
the Austrian capital. As we gave the summary of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 251 

Napoleon's first campaign, inscribed on the flag he sent 
to the Directory, we add the eloquent and artful address 
he made to the army after they had vanquished the 
enemy, containing an outline of what he had accom- 
plished. 

" Soldiers of the Grand Army, — In fifteen days 
we have finished our campaign. What we proposed 
to do has been done. We have chased the Austrian 
troops from Bavaria, and restored our ally to the sove- 
reigron of his dominions. 

" That army, which with so much presumption and 
imprudence marched upon our frontiers, is annihilated. 

"But what does this signify to England? She has 
gained her object. We are no longer at Boulogne, and 
her subsidies will not be the less great. 

" Of a hundred thousand men who composed that 
army, sixty thousand are prisoners ; but they will sup- 
ply our conscripts in the labor of husbandry. 

" Two hundred pieces of cannon, ninety flags, and 
all their generals, are in our* power. Not more than 
fifteen thousand men have escaped. 

" Soldiers ! I announce to you a great battle ; but 
chanks to the ill-devised combinations of the enemy, 1 
was able to secure the desired result without any dan- 
ger ; and, what is unexampled in the history of nations, 
these results have been gained at the loss of scarcely 
fitteen hundred men, killed and wounded 

" Soldiers ! this success is due to your entire confi- 
dence in your Emperor, to your patience in s?upporting 



252 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

fatigue and privations of every kind, and to your re- 
markable intrepidity. 

" But we will not stop here. You are impatient to 
commence a second campaign. 

" The Russian army, which the gold of England 
has brought from the extremity of the world, we have 
to serve in the same manner. 

" In the conflict in which we are now to be engaged, 
the honor of the French infantry is especially con- 
cerned. We shall then see decided, for the second 
time, that question which has already been decided in 
Switzerland and Holland ; namely, whether the French 
infantry is the first or second in Europe ? 

" There are no generals amongst them, in contend- 
ing against whom I can acquire any glory. All I wish 
is to obtain the victory with the least possible blood- 
shed. My soldiers are my children." 

In the mean time all was suspense at St. Cloud. 
December was vanishing, and no news reached the 
Empress from the army, till looks only betrayed the 
increasing alarm none ventured longer to breathe in 
words of fear. One evening Josephine was sitting in 
the saloon with the circle who usually gathered there, 
putting on a witching mockery of her wonted smile, 
while in every heart sad forebodings made each en- 
deavor to awaken mirth, a fruitless struggle. Stillness 
stole upon that brilliant circle, and a gloomy anticipa- 
tion of disastrous tidings absorbed all other feeHnff. 
Suddenly there arose wild shouts of gladness, and a 
gallant Mameluke dashed into the court, his panting 



LIFE or JOSEPHINE. 253 

Steed falling in death beneath the brave rider. The 
sound of bells and the loud crack of the whip had 
reached the ear of Josephine. She flew to the win- 
dow to hail the courier from the Danube — " Victory ! 
Austerlitz !" passed from lip to lip beneath the case- 
ment, while tears were her response of joy that could 
find no other language. 

She immediately descended to the vestibule, at- 
tended by her ladies, and received from the hand of 
the Mameluke, who came from the field of victory, a 
distance of one hundred and fifty miles, in twelve 
hours, a note written by Napoleon at the moment his 
valiant army won the terrific day, and the triumphant 
shout was heard along the advancing lines. In the 
light of flambeaux borne by the attendants, she read 
the brief message with that tide of emotion which 
rushes over the spirit when transport succeeds de- 
spair ; then taking from her finger a diamond ring of 
great value, gave it to the chivalrous courier. The 
news spread — the people were frantic with enthusiasm, 
and ready in their loyalty to deify the conqueror, as in 
their atheistical frenzy they once did reason. To Jo- 
sephine the results were grateful as a loving mother. 
Eugene was in consequence of these triumphs to marry 
the Princess of Bavaria — the first royal alliance in the 
family of the Emperor. Josephine was informed that 
the nuptials would occur in Munich in January, (1806,) 
and her presence was required. She made haste to 
join those dearer to her than laurels of glory, and be- 
hold the bride of the Viceroy of Italy. It was purely 



254 ijf:e of Josephine. 

a political marriage, and as such young Beauharnaia 
recoiled from the paternal decree. But he found in 
the Princess Augusta all he could desire or love, and 
their mutual devotion became deep and enduring ; a 
source of pleasure to Josephine, through a life of sin- 
gular and changeful interest. The maternal charac- 
ter of this remarkable woman is most attractive, and 
always above reproach. Without the discipline of 
moral cultivation in its highest form — surrounded by 
society hollow in principle and deceptive in action — 
flattered and honored, she was still an aflTectionate, 
judicious, and faithful mother. Her children were 
indeed " her crown," and she was happy in their 
prosperity, when every other joy was crushed. 

Napoleon returned from Germany, and in his train 
followed a swarm of German princes to the court of 
France. Fetes and parties were the order of the day ; 
the slain were forgotten, except in homes left des- 
olate, and the name of iN'apoleon was the theme of 
eulogy in the market and mansion — by the noble who 
anticipated honor, and the peasant who toiled only for 
his bread. Among the royal guests was the Prince of 
Baden, the intended husband of Stephanie de Beau- 
harnais, who had been made princess but recently, 
and was a niece of Josephine. A communication ad- 
dressed to an old friend, in reference to the affair, il- 
lustrates the pure and elevated sentiments that were 
cherished in all the relations of life : — 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 255 



JOSEPHINE TO THE COMTESSE GIRARDIN. 

' AIt dear Friend, — I send you a set of jewels, 
which will serve to prove that I do not cease to think 
of you. The moment Foncier (jeweller to the Em- 
press) brought them, the charming appearance they 
would have on your beautiful neck occurred to me, 
and I jagerly made the purchase. Accept, then, this 
pledge if an attachment which you cannot doubt, on 
recallir g your own affection for me when I was utterly 
destitufe, but of which, from that very circumstance, 
it will be pleasing to receive a new remembrance. 

" I am truly satisfied with the rank which I occupy, 
only when it procures me the pleasure of obtaining 
some favor for my friends of old. Your situation, for- 
tunately, deprives me of the happiness of being able to 
serve you, since all your wishes are fulfilled. I cannot 
console myself for my want of power to be serviceable, 
save by often seeking occasions of being at least agree- 
able. These my heart will instruct me how to divine. 

" My charming Stephanie, now adopted by the Em- 
peror, is very soon to espouse a German prince. His 
name must be still a mystery : so soon as I have per- 
mission to communicate it, you shall be the first to 
learn the secret. You know my tenderness for my 
niece, and can therefore conceive the happiness which 
I experience in venturing to anticipate hers. Her 
character, little disposed to ambition, makes her re- 
gard this match with a degree of pain, because it re- 



256 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

moves her from me and her family ; yet a while, and 
she will forget everything in the truest of all the joys 
of this world, that of seeing the happiness of others 
depending upon her. You will remember, my dear, 
we found means of tasting such enjoyment even in 
prison, by sharing with the wretched captives what 
we received from our friends ! There wants, indeed, 
only the will to oblige ; the means are always in our 
power ; and Stephanie especially is worthy of often 
meeting with the opportunity. 

" Meantime we are very busy with all those futilities 
necessary to an intended. I am delighted with every- 
thing the emperor does for my favorite. She is, I 
know, less overjoyed than I, from the causes already 
mentioned, and finds only one consolation, in being 
able, on quitting France, to take with her some early 
friends, a privilege which is to be granted. If, then, 
your protegee desires an agreeable situation, I believe 
I can procure one near Stephanie's person, which will 
be preferable to one in my service. 

" I must leave you, dear friend, for Forcier. There 
are duties to which we must sacrifice even friendship. 
You will therefore pardon my breaking off abruptly for 
a purpose of this importance. For your sake I have 
vanquished my sloth, not wishing to employ the pen of 
my good Deschamps (private secretary.) Between 
friends such as we two, a third party is to me always a 
restraint. Are you not of the same opinion ? Adieu, 
my friend. Empress or in prison, be assured no one 
loves you as does Josephine.' 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 2o7 

While these festive scenes were passing, and the 
Parisians holding jubilee, Napoleon was not idle — un- 
like Hannibal, he never paused for voluptuous ease 
upon a height of glory, nor for an instant relaxed his 
vigilance and untiring activity. Having created King- 
doms and appointed Kings, over the wide region of 
conquest, he determined to environ his throne with a 
new line of Princes, and bestow principalities upon the 
members of his own household. Murat became Grand 
Duke of Cleves and Berg — Cambaceres Duke of 
Parma — his sister Pauline, who had married Prince 
Borghese, was created Duchess of Guastalla ; Louis 
and Hortense held the throne of Holland. Josephine 
rejoiced with trembling at this rapid approximation 
towards the fruition of her most radiant hopes — the 
fulfilment of dreams more gorgeous than ever haunted 
the brain of the Abyssinian Prince in his garden of 
manifold delights. In her society, gathering about him 
and concentrating all the elements of permanent power, 
and carrying on negotiations for peace with surround- 
ing powers, Napoleon occupied the spring and summer 
of 1806. Prussia was resolved on war, and the ultima- 
tum of her Cabinet, amounting to a haughty challenge, 
was applying the torch to the magazine of restless 
Europe. Bonaparte was enraged, and in September 
was again on the banks of the Rhine. The following 
month France and Prussia were in the field, and on the 
14th were fought the great battles of Austerdadt and 
Jena. These were followed by a series of victories 
scarcely less marvellous and splendid than those of a 



258 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

preceding year, till over annihilated armies of the 
world's noblest soldiers, Napoleon marched like the 
very angel of death to the foe. It was during this 
campaign that he performed the generous deed of 
pardoning Prince Hatzfield, whose intercepted letters 
from Berlin proved him to be a spy ; an act that 
touched deeply the heart of Josephine, and endeared 
the man she loved with an idolatry death alone could 
destroy. The court-martial had assembled to try the 
Prince, and evidently the formalities of examination, 
sentence, and execution would succeed each other 
without hesitation. Through the influence of Duroc 
at this juncture, Madam Hatzfield was introduced into 
the apartment of the Emperor. The interview is 
given in Napoleon's own language, quoted from a letter 
to the Empress, in which she alludes to something he 
had written unfavorable to her sex. 

" I have received your letter, in which it seems you 
reproach me for speaking ill of woman. True it is 
that, above all things, I dislike female intriguers. 1 
have been used to kind, gentle and conciliatory women. 
Them I love, and if they have spoiled me, it is not my 
fault, but yours. However, you will see that I have 
acted indulgently towards one sensible and deserving 
woman. I allude to Madam Hatzfield. When ] 
showed her her husband's letter, she burst into tears, 
and in a tone of the most exquisite grief and candor, 
exclaimed, 'It is indeed his writing!' This was too 
much, it went to my heart, and I said, ' Well, Madam, 
throw the letter into the fire, and then I shall have no 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 259 

proof against your husband.' She burned the letter, 
and was restored to happiness. Her husband is now 
sate ; two hours later, and he would have been lost 
You see, therefore, that I like women who are feminine 
smnple and amiable, for they alone resemble you 
November 6th, 1806, 9 o'clock, p. m." 

A glimpse of the interior of St. Cloud while these 
years of alternate conflict and peace were vanishing 
and Josephine living amid the enthusiastic homage of 
the nation, unstained and undazzled by greatness, will 
possess an interest different in kind, from the general 
surface- view, but pleasing, because it affords a closer 
observation of character, which is the only test of one's 
real condition. The Emperor, as mentioned before, 
had separate apartments in the palace, occasionally 
passing the night with Josephine, when much of the 
time was spent in conversation. The order given his 
attendant was, to enter the apartment at seven o'clock 
in the morning ; of which service, the faithful Constant 
has made his own simple report : — 

" The Emperor commonly asked for tea or an infu- 
sion of orange flowers, and rose immediately after 
The Empress would say with a smile, ' Will you rise 
so soon ? — Remain a little longer.' ' Well, if I dO; you 
will not sleep, will you ?' was his majesty's usual reply ; 
then he would roll her up in the coverlet, laughing, 
and tickling her on the cheeks and neck. In the 
course of a few minutes the Empress rose also, and 
putting on a loose rohe du matin, either read the jour- 
nal while the Emperor dressed, or retired by a private 
17 



260 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

access to her own apartments, but never without 
addressing some kind and condescending words to 
myself." 

Josephine's hour of rising was nine o'clock, and af- 
ter devoting an hour to the toilet, entered the recep- 
tion-room of petitioners, for her interposition, or the 
royal favor. With all the annoyances attending this 
ceremony, it was to her second to none in interest ; for 
her sympathies must have an object, or she was un- 
happy. If she erred in judgment, when bestowing 
influence or money upon those who presented their 
claims, it was the mistake of a feeling, generous 
spirit — surrounded by intriguing courtiers, and often 
wholly dependent upon the applicant's honesty for a 
truthful narrative, she may have scattered too lav- 
ishingly her wealth, and aided a villain now and then, 
but she had the secret consciousness of oftener doing 
good to the unfortunate, and won admiration by a 
fault of which only a magnanimous mind could have 
been guilty. Among the various notes addressed to 
men of rank in behalf of others, a laconic and ex- 
pressive one in reference to a worthy youth, sent to 
Fouche, is quoted : — 

" My Lord Duke, — I will that the young Dutetre 
be placed in some way or other, while I am Empress ; 
you would very speedily forget him should I cease to 
reign. I salute you." 

Josephine was eminently a philanthropist — never 
forgetting the common nature and wants of our race ; 
the insignificance of distinctions wholly factitious, 



LIFE OF josephinf;. 26 i 

w'hich she had learned might rise or disappear at the 
touch of fortune ; nor was she unmindful of the level- 
ling stroke of death that hurries all to a tribunal of 
final adjudication. 

After these morning duties were discharged, came 
the hour of breakfast, which was eleven o'clock. Na- 
poleon ate with haste, as though time at the table was 
so much wasted — and eating a necessary evil. He 
seldom gave more than seven or eight minutes to a 
meal, sipping for the finale a cup of coffee. He fre- 
quently ate alone, especially when urgent business de- 
manded protracted attention. In his absence, Jose- 
phine had a social repast like those enjoyed during the 
Consulate,. With the ladies of the Court, she would 
sit down with her beaming face and musical voice, and 
make the occasion a cheerful interlude to the stately 
routine of business, and more exciting pleasures. 
After a little recreation, or a walk, she retired to her 
own apartments, and till late in the afternoon, was en- 
gaged with her circle, conversing familiarly, or read- 
ing, except when devoted to her favorite work, em- 
broidery, in which she excelled ; leaving in the palaces 
she occupied upon their costly furniture her handi- 
work for the admiration and reproof of those women 
of rank, who curl the lip with affected dignity and con- 
tempt at the vulgar necessity of labor. Josephine was 
everywhere a model — the same symmetrical character 
in prison or in the temple of coronation — strolling 
carelessly upon the lawn of Malmaison, or through the 
saloons of St. Cloud — Hstening to the acclamations of 



262 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the million, or to the story of affliction in a peasant's 
hovel. 

Her industry and her gentleness are developed at- 
tractively in a common note of direction to her Fern 
me-de-Ghanibre. 

" My Dear Miss Aubekt — ^I beg you will call in at 
Bennais's in returning, and inquire whether the frames 
which I ordered of him are ready ; my ladies remain 
with folded arms, and I myself have nothing at all to 
do. At the same time take in your way the Pere de 
Famille^ and purchase on my account a complete as- 
sortment of worsteds, with some dozens of English 
needles. Here is a lot of commissions for you all at 
once ; not to forget them, think of me. I am quite 
sure you will acquit yourself well, and return quickly." 

Josephine's intellectual cultivation and literary taste 
were, as already intimated, of a high order. Though 
her imagination was strong and soaring, which, with 
an exceedingly sensitive temperament, made her liable 
to the sentimentality and dreaming that form the ro- 
mantic character; she perused works of the most 
practical kind, and became familiar with the imperish- 
able records of genius in every department of reading 
Her private court was indeed a literary association — 
the members alternately appointed to read aloud, 
pausing occasionally for comment or discussion upon 
interesting or difficult passages of the author. But a 
few of the poisonous ephemera, novels, were allowed 
in the royal library, and only those of moral tone and 
purest style. ISTapoleon himself was sternly opposed 



LIFE OF JOSEPHESTB, 263 

L the wor'Jiless and exciting fiction, which has of late 
increased so rapidly in all countries. If he chanced in 
his walk through the palace to find a book of this sort 
in the hands of an attendant or lying on a table, he 
consigned it without mercy to the flames, and gave 
the offender a lecture upon his prodigality of time, and 
vicious indulgence. When he was in good spirits, he 
would often interrupt the entertainment of the fair 
group in their morning sociable, by joining the party, 
and with pleasant raillery and flashes of wit, enhance 
their pleasures ; especially that of Josephine, who was 
always delighted when by the side of Napoleon. And 
when he desired her presence in the cabinet on any 
private affair, a gentle tap at her door was the signal, 
which introduced her joyfully to his room. Sometimes 
an interview was protracted in the evening, till the 
" noon of night," and on her return she would find a 
silent company of " sleeping beauties." 

She rode out in the afternoon usually unaccom- 
panied by the Emperor, stopping whenever an appeal 
to benevolence met her eye, and never permitting the 
meanest animal to suffer if her interposition could pre- 
vent it. Her taste in matters of dress was refined, 
and generally pleasing to Bonaparte. It was his cus- 
tom, when making her evening toilet to be present 
both to while away a leisure hour and act as umpire in 
regard to the apparel most becoming, in his charac- 
teristic impulsiveness and impatience, he would scat 
ter the contents of boxes, throw into confusion the en- 
tire wardrobe, and handle jewelry as if they were peb. 



264 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Lies, until the women were monuments of amazement, 
and Josephine archly smiling on the wreck of robes, 
ribbons and diamonds. He never failed to exhibit his 
displeasure when she appeared in a dress he happened 
not to fancy ; and on one occasion it is said, when she 
entered his cabinet in a robe of blue and silver tissue, 
he threw an inkstand upon the beautiful costume, and 
the Empress retired to cast aside the ruined attire, for 
another trial to suit her lord's capricious taste. In 
trifles like this Josephine's tranquillity was scarcely 
ruffled, but when her fidelity was doubted, or her love 
unreturned, she drooped like a smitten flower, and her 
bosom was torn with a tempest of sorrow. The de- 
scription of the formalities at dinner, and Bonaparte's 
habits and illness is added from the pen of another. 

" At six o'clock dinner was served ; but, unless on 
very particular occasions. Napoleon forgot, and delay- 
ed it indefinitely. Hence, in the annals of the impe- 
rial table, dinners at nine, and even at ten o'clock, are 
not unfrequent. Their majesties always dined together 
— alone, or with a few invited guests, members of the 
imperial family or of the ministry. Invitations were 
delivered by the grand master of the ceremonies, who 
informed the grand marshal of the necessary arrange- 
ments, and in what manner the guests should sit ; the 
grand marshal, again, received his orders directly from 
the Sovereign. When their majesties dined en grand 
convert, their tables were placed under a canopy on a 
platform, elevated one step, and with two arm-chairs, 
one on the right for the Emperor, the other on the left 



UPE OF JOSEPHINE. 266 

for Josephine, the former wearing a hat with plumes, 
and his consort a diadem. Their majesties were in- 
formed by the grand marshal when the preparations 
were completed, and entered the room in the following 
order: — Pages, assistant master of the ceremonies, 
prefects of the palace, first prefect and a master of the 
ceremonies, the grand marshal and grand master of the 
ceremonies ; the Empress, attended by her first equerry 
and first chamberlain ; the Emperor, colonel-general 
of the guard, grand chamberlain and grand equerry ; the 
grand almoner, who blessed the meat, and retired, leav- 
ing their majesties to a solitary board, unless when 
guests of kingly rank were present, or humbler ones sat 
down there by invitation. The pages performed the 
most subordinate, and the stewards the menial part of 
the service at the imperial table ; but the immediate 
wants of their majesties were ministered to by the 
grand marshal (Duroc, Duke de Friuli,) first chamber- 
lain (Comte de Beaumont,) the first equerry (Comte de 
Harville,) and the chamberlains (all noblemen) in turn. 
The other tables w^ere served by the stewards and at- 
tendants in livery. But when the repast was in pri- 
vate, it took place in a small interior dining-room, with- 
out any etiquette, generally some of the members of 
the court, and especially the grand marshal, sitting 
down with their majesties. On these occasions, much 
more frequent than the dinners of ceremony, favorite 
attendants, named by Napoleon, waited at table. 

" Napoleon always ate hastily, rarely remaining 
above ten minutes at table : so that those who knew 



266 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

him well took care to be prepared beforehand. The 
Viceroy claims the merit of this invention. ' Nay, 
Eugene, you have not had time to dine/ said Napoleon, 
seeing him rise from table with himself * Pardon me,* 
replied the prince, ' I dined in advance.' ' A pru- 
dent foresight,* said the Emperor, laughing. On Na- 
poleon rising in this hurried manner, Josephine made a 
sign to those who dined with them to remain, but fol- 
lowed herself into a small saloon. Here a page brought 
the ingredients in utensils of silver gilt, upon a gold 
tray ; and the Empress poured out and sugared a small 
cup of coffee, tasted, by sipping a few drops, then pre- 
sented it to the Emperor. These precautions she took 
because at first, in his moments of absence, he some- 
times drank it cold, or without or with too much sugar, 
and sometimes two cups in succession*; any of which 
irregularities made him ill, and hence, probably, the 
stories of his immoderate use of this beverage. This 
custom of eating so precipitately both induced sloven- 
ly habits and frequently caused sickness. Napoleon 
not only dispensed with the use of his knife and fork 
as respected his own plate, but also helped himself with 
his fingers from the dishes nearest him, and dipped his 
bread in the sauce. In the attacks of indigestion, 
which were often very severe, and attended with 
vomiting, nothing could exceed the anxious tenderness 
of Josephine ; for Napoleon supported the sickness with 
scarcely a degree of composure. 

"On the first symptoms of the malady, he flung him- 
self at full length on the carpet of his bed-room, and 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 267 

Josephine was instantly by his side. She rested his 
head on her knees, stroking his temples, and applying 
frictions of eau de Cologne to his breast, consoling and 
encouraging him in the best way she could. A few 
cups of tea seldom failed to remove the acute pain ; 
but he remained for a length of time feeble and ex- 
hausted, when Josephine, in her most touching accents, 
would say, ' Now you are better, will you lie down a 
little ? I will remain with Constant by your bedside.' 
These attacks and the manner of treatment have prob- 
ably given rise to the idea that Napoleon was subject 
to epileptic fits. One of the longest and most severe 
indispositions of this kind occurred during the excur- 
sion to Mayence, and in the night. Josephine, in per- 
fect darkness, for the chamber light had been extin- 
guished, and not wishing to awake any one, assured 
that nobody but herself would be tolerated in the apart- 
ment, threw some part of her dress about her, and 
groped her way to the chamber of the aid-de-camp on 
duty, from whom, astonished as he felt at such a visit, 
she obtained a light, and continued alone to watch over 
and apply remedies to her husband. Next day both 
appeared languid and fatigued. How selfish and un- 
grateful a being must Napoleon have been, when on 
the very same excursion, he, with his own hand, almost 
dragged Josephine from bed to attend a ball, while 
suffering under one of those nervous headaches which 
frequently caused her absolute torture. The first lady 
of honor, Madam de Rochefoucauld, witnessed this 

barbaritv, which she mentioned with tears. Josephine 

L 



268 LIFE OF JOSEPHtCfB. 

appeared at the ball and reception with her usual kind- 
ness and grace, remained the requisite time, but almost 
fainted on returning to her apartments, yet without 
uttering a single murmur of complaint." 

The sadness of this last picture is relieved by an- 
other drawn from life at St. Cloud. When intervals 
of repose from the cares of the empire occurred, Napo- 
leon accompanied by Josephine made short excursions 
into the country ; visiting Rambouillet and Fontaine- 
bleau, favorite places of resort to him, and memorable 
for many events of interest in his remarkable history 
These rides into the beautiful region adjacent to the 
palace, were crowded with enjoyment to the heart of 
the Empress, who from the days of girlish glee on the 
green slopes of Martinique, had loved the sublimity, 
the music, and freedom of nature. The chase was at 
such times an amusement inseparable from nobility 
and Bonaparte engaged in the exercise rather on that 
account than because it w^as a source of pleasure. But 
perhaps, Josephine never appeared more queenly than 
upon this adventure. With her attendants, she rode in 
an open caleche, her elegant riding habit falling in folds 
at her feet, a round hat crowning her head, and the 
white feathers dancing in the morning air ; while a 
glow of excitement gave to her superb countenance, a 
fine and luminous expression Bonaparte admired ex- 
ceedingly. The picnic which followed, was had be- 
neath the shade of forest trees, the oratorio of birds, 
and sallies of mirth completing the accompaniments of 
the nomadic repast. After a hot pursuit, a panting 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIISrE. 269 

stag, with antlers thrown back, and pleading look, 
sought refuge beneath the carriage of the Empress. 
She interceded for the trembling fugitive, and his life 
was spared, with the ornament of a silver collar attach- 
ed to his neck, as the signet-ring of her protection for 
the future. The wild protege bounded over the slopes 
and lay down in the glades, unharmed till his illustrious 
preserver was no longer able to save him from the 
hunter's aim, but needed herself sympathy in the slow 
murder of her heart and frame. 

Josephine's correspondence, which filled up moments 
of leisure, was elevating in sentiment, and marked h^f 
that vivacity peculiar to her active mind. At the pe- 
riod which has been embraced in the sketch of domes- 
tic scenes, she used her influence to make reconcilia- 
tion among the members of her husband's family, who, 
in taking possession of thrones and emoluments, often 
came in collision ; returning, in all her intercourse, 
kindness for the enmity she received as constantly 
from them. Madam Murat was an ambitious and 
rather imperious woman, inclined to usurp authority by 
virtue of her relationship to Napoleon. A letter from 
the Empress on the subject, delineates the character 
of both the distinguished ladies. 

" You are not, my sister, an ordinary woman ; and 
therefore I write to you after a fashion very different 
from that which I would employ with a common-place 
character. I tell you frankly, and without reserve, 
that I am dissatisfied with you. How you actually 
torture the poor Murat! you make him shed tears! 



eTO LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

With SO many means of pleasing, why do you ever 
prefer to command ? Your husband obeys through 
fear, when he ought to yield to persuasion alone. By 
thus usurping a part which does not belong to us, you 
convert a brave man into a timid slave, and yourself 
into an exacting tyrant. This brings shame to him, 
and cannot be an honor to you. Our glory — the glory 
of woman — lies in submission ; and if it be permitted 
us to reign, our empire rests on gentleness and good- 
ness. Your husband, already so great in the opinion 
of the world, through his valor and exploits, feels as if 
he beheld all his laurels brought to the dust on appear- 
ing in your presence. You take a pride in humbling 
them before your pretensions ; and the title of being 
the sister of a hero is, with you, reason for believing 
yourself a heroine. Believe me, my sister, that char- 
acter, with the qualities which it supposes, becomes us 
not. Let us joy modestly in the glory of our spouses, 
and place ours in softening their manners, and leading 
the world to pardon their deeds. Let us merit this 
praise, that the nation, while it applauds the bravery 
of our husbands, may also commend the gentleness 
bestowed by Providence on their wives to temper that 
bravery." 

She also wrote to the Emperor's mother, to secure, 
if possible, her aid in healing the discords rife in the 
ascendant dynasty, and restore the harmony which 
vanished with the spreading glory of him, to whose 
affection alone his relatives owed their rank. Had it 
not been for natural ties, Bonaparte, in his contempt 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIXE. 271 

of their quarrels, would have swept them from his 
path, and gone to the common mass for successors to 
their honors. The communication mentioned was as 
follows : — 

"Madam and most honored Mother, — Employ the 
ascendency which your experience, dignity, virtues, 
and the love of the Emperor give, in order to restore 
to his family that internal peace now banished from it. 
I fear to intrude in these domestic dissensions, from 
the apprehension lest calumny should accuse me of in- 
flaming them by such interference. It belongs to you, 
madam, to bring back calm ; and for this purpose, it is 
only necessary to say that you are informed of these 
discords. Your prudence will have commenced the 
work by pointing out the evil, and will speedily dis- 
cover the remedy. I name no person, but your saga- 
city will divine all concerned. You are not a stranger 
to human passion ; and vice, which has never ap- 
proached you, will discover itself in those who are 
dear to you, through the very interest which you take 
in their welfare. You will not be long in remarking 
the progress of ambition, perhaps that of cupidity, in 
more than one mind, ingenuous till now, but which the 
favors of fortune begin to corrupt. You will view 
with apprehension the constantly increasing ravages 
of luxury, and, with still more pain, the want of feeling 
that follows in its train. I do not, however, insist upon 
this accusation, because, perhaps, it has less foundation 
than the rest, and because it is not impossible I may 
have taken for hardness of heart what was only intox- 



272 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ication of spirit. Be this, however, as it may, the effect 
is the same, manifested as this haughtiness is by vanity, 
insolence, and harsh refusals, producing deplorable im- 
pressions upon those who witness these outrages. Men 
are not slow to sharpen the m.emory of those who seem 
disposed to forget their origin ; and the sole means of 
inducing others to pardon our good fortune, is to enjoy 
it with moderation, sharing its gifts with those who 
have been le,^s favored." 

Turning from the incidents in the daily life of the 
imperial household, we find the years were full of stir- 
rir.g events to the political world. A continent was 
all astir — with marching armies — the making and 
breaking of treaties — intrigues and plots of assassina- 
tion. A new order of nobility was founded, and the 
ancient university rebuilt upon a foundation in harmony 
with the despotic views of a sovereign whose opinions 
were strangely modified by the successive strides he 
made in the path of his solitary grandeur. 

This universal unrest, was a condition of things 
congenial to Bonaparte, to whom the pleasure of re- 
tirement and love itself, " was a song piped at the in- 
tervals of the dance" — and, " as his favorite poet Os- 
sian, loved best to tune his lyre to the noise of the 
roaring tempest. Napoleon, in like manner, required 
political storms and opposing elements to display his 
wonderful abilities." His astonishing successes awed 
the nations, and expanded the horizon of his ambition, 
until he could gaze upon no object that cast a shadow 
of uncertainty on the boundless prospect without irri- 



X,IFE OP JOSKPHINE. 273 

tation, and hold communion with none but himself 
A new leaf is soon turned in the destiny of empires, of 
Napoleon, and of the guardian angel who had hung 
with delight over his path of glory, and with tears 
over his couch of suffering — shrinking only from the 
frown of displeasure or accents of reproach. 



CHAPTER IX. 

A NEW PHASE IN JOSEPHINe's DESTINY, — NAPOLEOn's LOVE, — HIS DE3IRK 

FOE A SUCCESSOR. RUMOR THAT THE PRINCE ROYAL OF HOLLAND 13 

TO BE THE HEIR-APPARENT. CHARACTER OF THE YOUNG PRINCE. 

HIS AFFECTION FOR BONAPARTE, ALTERNATE HOPE AND FEAR, THE 

PRINCE DIES, — Josephine's grief, — napoleon's return from tilsit 

treatment of the empress. JOURNEY TO ITALY, SCENES AT THE 

CAPITAL. NAPOLEON. JOSEPHINe's DIARY, SPANISH AFFAIRS. INCI- 
DENTS OF THE JOURNEY, THE EMPEROR MEETS ALEXANDER. RESULTS. 

JOSEPHINE. RETURN TO PARIS. BONAPARTE's DESIGNS, PREPARA- 
TIONS FOR A DIVORCE, — DECREE OF THE COUNCIL. CONSUMMATION. 

Astronomers tell us of a star which once shone 
out in the heavens with almost unrivalled brilliancy. 
It took its place in the firmament suddenly and un- 
heralded, where it blazed with a glory which was not 
only the admiration and wonder of the common ob- 
server, but which struck with astonishment men who 
had grown old in tracing the glories of the universe. 
Whence came so suddenly forth " this bright peculiar 
star ?" what its meaning and mission, were questions 
upon which philosophers, at once, began to busy them- 
selves. In the midst of their efforts, the object upon 
which they had mused and marvelled began to fade 
away. As men were looking upon it and wondering 
at its brightness, its lustre began to pale before their 
eyes. Night after night as they gazed up into the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 275 

heavens, they saw its glory vanishing as it gradually 
withdrew from the place where it had been enthroned 
as queen among the stars, till a sadness and an awe 
fell upon the beholder, when he caught the last beam 
which it sent down to earth, as it passed away from 
the sight of man forever. 

We have frequently thought of this wonderful star 
as we have been tracing the singular history of her, 
who, like that orb, blazed forth so suddenly and shone 
so brightly upon the visions of men, and who, also, 
like it, was destined to have her glory fade, and be 
consigned to obscurity as surprising as had been hei 
elevation to splendor and renown. 

Hitherto we have seen Josephine constantly rising 
in her position in life. Every step was an ascending 
one, and every station which she occupied seemed to 
receive from her a dignity equal to that which it con- 
ferred. As she sat upon the throne of France, or 
moved with queenly grace through the halls of the 
Tuilleries, or manifested her intelligence and gentle- 
ness to those who were privileged with her society, 
none could fail to see that she was fully worthy to 
share the rank and heart of that strange man who 
called her his own. That Napoleon was proud of 
Josephine, and that he loved her, we may not doubt. 
Himself of plebeian origin, he had no reason to value 
her the less because she was not of patrician rank. 
Napoleon made distinctions, and allowed neither his 
feelings nor his purposes to be controlled by any 
which societv had raised. The dignitv which the 
18 V 



276 UFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Archduchess Maria Louisa brought with her, failed 
to elicit from Napoleon's heart the admiration or the 
love, which he had formerly lavished upon Josephine. 
He looked upon Josephine as a woman, and valued 
her as such, independently of any station which she 
might have previously held in society. As his Em- 
press, receiving the homage of his court to her rare 
elegance of person and manners, he doubtless admired 
her, but it was the heart of Josephine which he loved. 
Hers was a warmth of affection, rarely combined with 
so much culture and strength of intellect, and contrary 
to the opinion of some, we are constrained to believe 
that it was this which enabled her to exercise over the 
Emperor so controlling a power. It was a rare thincr 
for Napoleon to be loved. His people and courtiers 
admired, and some almost reverenced him : his ene- 
mies feared full as much as they hated him ; his sol- 
diers would court the shock of battle — would brave 
dangers and death — would endure privation and hard- 
ship, and suffering and toil, in the -passion of their de- 
votion to him ; but Napoleon well knew, that amid all 
the hosts who fawned before him, or would meet death 
in his service, few indeed there were who poured out 
upon him the rich wealth of a loving, trusting heart. 
The affection of Josephine was thus especially gratify- 
ing to his stern nature. Knowing that she loved him 
fondly, truly, devotedly, and perceiving in her, as he 
did, all those qualities of person and intellect which 
could command his admiration, it was impossible for 
lim to fail m having a corresponding affection for hei 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINU. 277 

in return. We have the best evidence that NapoleoK 
not only admired, but loved his beautiful wife, and the 
tale is a singular and sad one, which we are compelled 
to relate, how his heart grew cold toward Josephine, 
as he gathered in and centered once more upon him- 
self, the affection which only one being besides himself 
had ever shared. It adds a fresh coloring to the ambi- 
tion and self-love of that wonderful man, who could 
stride with equal ease over a heart which he had bro- 
ken, and a throne which he had. crushed. 

The coolness with which the Emperor now began 
to regard Josephine, was of slow growth. It was im- 
possible that he should at once break away from all 
the chains which her affection had thrown over his 
heart. But self-love w^as, with Napoleon, a passion 
far stronger than his love for Josephine. His own 
genius had raised him to greatness ; his own power 
and wondrous energy had made all Europe stand in 
awe before him, and borne him to an elevation where 
he could toy with crowns and sceptres as the baubles 
of a child. His gigantic spirit had risen to eminence 
by its own might, and unaided, had it swept away old 
dynasties which crowded in his path, and made gray 
monarchies to totter till they fell at his feet. Josephine 
occupied a portion of his heart; the remainder was 
filled only with himself. Standing, as he did, upon the 
pinnacle of his greatness, and surveying the w^hole ex- 
tent of his power, there were frequent moments of bit- 
ter mortification when he felt that none of his schemes 
were immortal, that all this vast edifice, reared bv his 



2 78 LITE OP JOSEPHINE. 

hand, was to crumble away at his death. Had he off 
spring to whom he could transmit it, and thus perpetu- 
ate his name and sovereignty, his aspirations would 
have been unchecked. It was a wound which his pride 
keenly felt, that when he should pass away from the 
earth, he could leave no child to sway his sceptre, and 
send onward to distant generations the echo of his 
fame. It was long before he would allow this to influ- 
ence his feelings towards Josephine. He loved her, 
and it was a struggle to tear away the affections which 
he had really and fondly bestowed ; but where was 
the earthly object which could stand in the way of his 
hopes ? 

The Empress saw the gathering storm. Dark fore- 
bodings tortured her heart. She marked the cold look 
the averted eye, and with her natural quickness of per- 
ception, at once divined the cause. But it was not 
possible for her to look quietly on and see the blighting 
change, without making at least one effort to regain his 
waning love. To be queen of his heart was richer to 
her a thousand-fold, than to wear the diadem of France 
upon her brow. She could see the throne crumble be- 
neath her, and could bear to have the admiring mur- 
murs of the courtly throng who pressed around her, 
exchanged for taunts and scorn ; but she could not feel 
without a pang that she was looked upon carelessly by 
him, around whom clustered all the warmest, fondest 
feehngs of her heart. 

For a time, Josephine believed that she still retained 
her hold upon his afTections. She had reason to think 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 279 

tliat Napoleon would be content to make the Prince 
Royal of Holland his successor. The report was 
widely circulated that this was the Emperor's inten- 
lion, and there is now every reason to believe thai 
such was his plan. The child belonged to the impe- 
rial family, He was the eldest son of Hortense, and 
his father was the favorite brother of Napoleon. He 
bore his uncle's name, and even in his childish sports 
gave evidence that he possessed, in no small degree, 
his uncle's character. The Emperor would relax his 
sternness, and unbend himself from the cares of state 
and perplexities of war, to take the young Napoleon 
upon his knee, and listen to his prattle of the revolu- 
tions he would guide when he became a man. Though 
but a child, his firmness of character seemed unyield- 
ino-, even to the severest tests to which Napoleon at 
times took pleasure in subjecting it. A smile would 
spread over the Emperor's calm features as he saw his 
nephew come forth unsubdued from every trial to 
which he had submitted him. One day a domestic 
had allowed him to partake freely of a fruit which bar 
been forbidden him, on account of the indispositior 
which uniformly attended the indulgence. In the ill 
ness which ensued, Hortense endeavored to learn the 
name of the servant who had disobeyed her com- 
mands in giving him the luxury. The young Prince 
raised himself in the bed, while an untamed fire sat in 
his bright eye, as he said — " I promised that I would 
not tell, and I will die before I break my promise." 
This firmness, joined to a passion which he seemed to 



280 LIFE OF JOSEPHns^E. 

liave for military exploits, especially endeared him to 
the heart of his uncle. He would buckle around him 
the Emperor's sword-belt, and donning his plumed 
chapeau, would act the general in the saloons of the 
Tuilleries or at Fontainebleau, with infinite glee. His 
affection for Napoleon was stronger than for any other 
object. Neither Josephine nor his parents, could have 
any rivalry in the unbounded love with which he re- 
garded his uncle. The playthings which Napoleon 
gave him, were valued higher than the richer presents 
which he had received from any other source. Bona- 
parte was first in all his affections. His morning sal- 
utations must be given first to him alone ; his first in- 
quiries were respecting him; his first efforts were to 
please him. A smile from that countenance, which 
had looked death from so many battle-fields, was rap- 
ture to his boyish heart. 

These traits, and the fact that he was in the direct 
imperial line, determined Napoleon to make him his 
heir. It was the court talk at Paris and the Hague. 
Nobles of the realm paid their devoirs to the young 
Prince as their future lord. Marshals of the Empire 
were wont to gaze curiously at him, and wonder whether 
he would ever plan a battle which should place a na- 
tion in his grasp. Intriguing politicians began to scheme 
how they might best secure his favor, and crafty cour- 
tiers already strove to gain a permanent place in his 
regards. All this was well known to Napoleon, and it 
cannot be supposed that he had given no reason for it. 
He noticed, and seemed pleased with the attentions 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 281 

which his young nephew received. The report, which 
came to his ears again and again, that he had intimated 
his intention of adopting the Prince, was never contra- 
dicted. That such was his plan is not at all improba- 
ble. The King of Holland was then in the highest 
favor with his brother ; the Queen was the only daugh- 
ter of Josephine, and as such, endeared to the Empe- 
ror by a thousand ties. The young Prince was not 
only a favorite, but Napoleon would have preferred 
such a succession, rather than to obtain another by 
breaking the heart of Josephine. The Empress saw 
*all this with gratitude and hope. She was a woman 
of great shrewdness, and her efforts had been chiefly 
instrumental in bringing about a state of things so fa- 
vorable. She understood perfectly the precise place 
which she occupied in her husband's affections. She 
knew that he loved her, but she also knew that her 
hold upon his heart was one that would be broken 
whenever it should lie in the way of his ambition. 
Her keen penetration instantly detected the cause, the 
first time his alienation towards her was manifested. 
She had feared that an ungrateful desire for a succes- 
sor would eventually modify his feeling towards her, 
and the remedy for this may have been devised by 
herself. Certainly she used every effort to strengthen 
the affection between the Emperor and his nephew, 
confident that if she succeeded in this, her influence 
over ISTapoleon would still be undiminished. 

Her expectations were not in vain. The cloud 
rolled from the Emperor's brow as he saw with cer- 



282 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tainty how he might still retain Josephine, and the 
imperial Hne of descent remain unbroken. His appar- 
ent aversion vanished. His former love retm-ned and 
sunny days once more beamed radiantly upon Jose- 
phine. The full fountain of her affection flowed forth 
freely, and Napoleon forgot at times that he was an 
Emperor, and remembered only that he was a man. 
The genial feelings now cherished towards his wife, 
open a brighter view of his character than we could 
otherwise obtain. Though blended with the sterner 
emotions which always ruled him, they show that his 
iron nature was not altogether unyielding. They are^ 
like a gleam of sunshine resting upon the bosom of the 
thunder-cloud, lighting up the dark birthplace of the 
tempest, and making it smile with its own celestial 
beauty. 

These were bright hours in the life of Josephine, but 
darker days were soon to fling their shadows on her 
path. A blow, so unlooked for that she had hardly 
dreamed that it were possible, fell at length upon her, 
breaking the spell that bound her spirit, and blotting 
every ray from the firmament of hope. In the spring 
of 1807, the young prince died. An illness so sudden 
that it had proved fatal before the court physicians who 
had been summoned at once from Paris could reach 
him, closed his life of promise. Josephine was then at 
St. Cloud, and the courier who first brought her tidings 
of the sickness of the prince, was followed in a few 
hours by another bearing the news of his death. The 
bolt was a terrible one — under no other affliction had 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 283 

her sorrow appeared so great. Day after day she shut 
herself up in her apartments, weeping bitterly and 
" refusing to be comforted." Her own affection for 
her grandson doubtless contributed to her grief, but its 
chief source was the fact that the strongest tie which 
bound her to the Emperor was now riven. She well 
knew his desires ; she understood fully his nature, and 
familiar with the unbounded sweep of his purposes, she 
might rationally tremble for the result. Broken with 
grief, her heart quailed with fear as she attempted to 
lift the veil which separated her from a future all gloom 
and sadness to her thought. 

Napoleon was conducting the Prussian campaign 
when the news reached him of his nephew's death. It 
gave him unfeigned sorrow, for his love and ambition 
were wounded,' and his plans for the succession of his 
crown were of course frustrated at once " To whom 
shall I leave all this," was the constantly recurring 
expression of his emotion as he viewed his daily increas- 
ing power ; and the design was now formed with per- 
fect calmness and deliberation to abandon Josephine 
and seek for himself a new Empress from one of the 
reigning houses of Europe. This was what the heart 
of Josephine feared. She would have given worlds to 
have been with him, but many leagues intervened 
between St. Cloud and Tilsit. Rumors of Napoleon's 
movements which were constantly coming to the Em- 
press's ears only served to harass her, and increase her 
anxiety. It was said that he had renewed an acquain- 
tance with a beautiful Polish lady to whom he wa? 



284 LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSrE. 

formerly attached,* and exaggerated accounts of an 
interview wiiich he was said to have held with the 
Queen of Prussia, were carried to Josephine. But 
above all, the news which produced the liveliest emo- 
tions and awakened the keenest solicitude in her breast, 
was the vague report, more terrible on account of its 
vagueness, that Napoleon had made direct overtures to 
the Emperor Alexander, for an alliance by marriage 
with the imperial family of Russia. Josephine could 
not believe, and yet she dared not discredit the story. 
Separated for the time from her immediate influence, 
she felt that he might interpose a hopeless barrier 
should he once decide that she stood in the way of his 
stupendous designs. 

On the 27th of July of this year. Napoleon rejoined 
the Empress at St. Cloud. He was flushed with the 
glories of a most brilliant campaign, and his arms had 
been everywhere successful. He had conquered at 
Preussich-Eylau and at Friedland, and was master of 
Dantzic and Koningsberg. He had humbled the pride 
of the King of Prussia by wresting from him some of 
his fairest possessions. He had at length brought the 
Emperor of Russia into an alliance upon the most 
favorable terms, and had succeeded in making a treaty 
of peace at Tilsit, in which he received every con- 
cession while he made none. By it the Rhenish con- 
federacy was sustained ; his two brothers Joseph and 
Louis were acknowledged Kings of Naples and Holland, 
and Westphalia was avowed to be at his disposal. His 

* This lady after-wards visited N^apoleon at Elba. 



LIFE ov Jos]:riiiNE. 286 

claim was undisputed to the whole of the Prussian 
provinces between the Elbe and the Rhine. The 
Hanoverian states, the territories belonging to tlie 
Duchy of Brunswick, the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel, 
together with the Ionian Islands, were all his own. In 
addition to all this, by the treaty of peace, the previous 
encroachments of the French in various portions of 
Europe were sanctioned and confirmed. Flushed with 
these victories and acquisitions, Napoleon was prepared 
to meet Josephine with an enthusiastic show of cor- 
diality. No want of affection was manifested either 
on his part or her own. She received the most con- 
stant attentions from him, and for a time seemed never 
to imagine that the joy which he apparently felt in her 
presence, might be partly the results of the triumphs, 
which he had lately achieved. 

For a few months Napoleon gave himself up to the 
enjoyment of her society at St. Cloud, and Fontaine- 
bleau ; months of almost perfect happiness to his de- 
voted wife. She saw only the bright side of the pic- 
ture, and in the joy of the present moment forgot all 
that she had previousl}^ supposed or heard. But there 
were others, who at this time saw Napoleon in a dif- 
ferent light. When removed from Josephine's pres- 
ence, he lost that ease and quiet which he had in her 
society, and displayed an impatience with his present 
condition, and restlessness that did not pass unob- 
served. He would sit for hours conversing with the 
Empress, but when she had left him, he could not re- 
main calm for a moment. At such times, he would 



286 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

frequently take to tlie chase and pursue it with a per- 
fect frenzy of passion. Was he in this way endeavor- 
ing to escape from a dark design which was troubling 
his thoughts, and resting with a heavy weight upon 
his spirit ? Such were the surmises of his attendants, 
and it was even whispered that he had mentioned to 
another his purpose to obtain a divorce from his wife ; 
but these reports were not carried to the ears of Jose- 
phine. If this was his purpose, there was evidently 
an effort, in which he perfectly succeeded, to keep 
the knowledge of it from her, whom of all others it 
most concerned. Her usual penetration appears for 
a time to have left her, and she lived on, joyous and 
unconcerned, careless of the future ; as a flower opens 
its petals and smiles in the glad sunshine, unconscious 
that the storm is near which shall lay it low, and 
scatter its leaves to the winds of heaven. 

Such was the state of things for three months.* In 
November, ^N^apoleon suddenly signified to Josephine 
his intention of proceeding to Italy, and bade her to 
be ready to accompany him in a few hours. His os- 
tensible reason was to secure the Grand Duchy of 
Tuscany for his sister Eliza, and to confirm by his 
presence the treaty of Presburg, which had annexed 
Venice and the other Italian provinces to the kingdom 
of Italy. But his main object was doubtless different 
from either of these. The conclusion is irresistible 
that his determination to divorce Josephine, was fixed 

* It was during this time that the Emperor framed the celebrated 
Code Napoleon. 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 287 

soon after the death of the prince royal of Holland, 
and that his present journey to Italy, was mainly for 
the purpose of sounding Eugene upon this point. 

The viceroy with his attendants came out to meet 
him as he approached Milan; "Dismount, dismount," 
cried Napoleon to Eugene — "come seat yourself with 
me, and let us enter your capital together." The 
viceroy did as desired, and the imperial carriage bear- 
ing Napoleon, Josephine, and Eugene, entered the 
gates of the city. The Emperor signified to Eugene 
his approbation of all that he had done, and loaded 
him with favors. He saw that it was highly impor- 
tant that, in the steps which he had determined to take 
in reference to Josephine, Eugene should be complai- 
sant, and it was doubtless in reference to this, that the 
famous Milan decree w^as promulgated, by which in 
default of his own la^yful male heirs. Napoleon adopted 
Eugene as his son, and made him heir to the " iron 
crown" of Italy. Satisfying himself that Eugene felt 
the obligations under which he was laid, and hoping in 
his after measures, to be able to deal with him success- 
fully. Napoleon left Milan, and after a hasty tour 
through the other Italian provinces, returned with 
Josephine to Paris. 

The winter which succeeded this journey, was one 
of the gayest which Paris had known since the days 
of Louis XIV. The city was crowded with gay 
nobles and demoiselles from all parts of the empire. 
Foreign ambassadors from every quarter of the world 
were present, and vied with each other in the splendoi 



288 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of their entertainments. The Emperor and Empress 
held their court at St. Cloud, with unrivalled magnifi- 
cence. Several marriages of high diplomatic im- 
portance were celebrated, all tending to swell the tide 
of gayety which was flowing in every part of the cap- 
ital. The Duke of Arberg, one of the princes of the 
Rhenish Confederacy, led to the altar Mademoiselle de 
Tascher, a niece of the Empress. Soon after were 
celebrated the nuptials of the Prince Hohenzollern 
with a niece of Murat, and speedily following, the 
Marshal Berthier was wedded to a princess of the 
royal house of Bavaria. Napoleon contrary to his 
usual custom mingled in all these festivities, displaying 
an appearance of unwonted gayety; and even con- 
sented repeatedly to wear a disguise, and appear 
among the dancers at the masked balls. Josephine, 
however, began to penetrate the secret delusion and 
fathom his plans, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal 
them from her knowledge. In all his attentions to her- 
self ; in all his gayeties ; in all the honors which he 
had lavished upon her son, she began to read her own 
dark destiny. It was a terrible thought which forced 
itself upon her mind, that Napoleon's present appear- 
ance was only a guise, thrown over his own real feel- 
ings ; that the smile of his countenance with which he 
was wont to greet her, w^as designed to cover the 
frown which lay upon his heart. 

In public, no one read her own secret feelings. The 
heart which was ready to break seemed Hght and joy- 
ous as that of a child. She was playing a part as well 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 289 

as Napoleon, though none knew it then but herself. 
With a resolute effort to hide her sorrow, she engaged 
in all the festivities of the season, danced and played, 
the gayest of the gay crowd which thronged the cap- 
ital ; receiving with becoming grace all the attentions 
which the Emperor continued to bestow upon her ; 
while all the time her soul was burdened, by the double 
anguish of slighted love, and wounded pride. The dis- 
position of Josephine was naturally light and joyous. 
She was inclined by nature to and a brighter view in 
every picture of life, and it was doubtless this which 
supported her so well under the knowledge she pos- 
sessed of Napoleon's intentions towards her. Hei 
hopefulness, also, led her at times fondly to trust that 
the storm would retire, while reason persuaded her 
that the Emperor would not allow her happiness to 
thwart the plan which she knew he cherished. What 
was she in comparison with him ? What was her poor 
human heart worth, and what availed the treasure of 
its affection to him, who made them subordinate to a 
throne, and the inscription of his name on its columns ? 
Bleeding affections, blasted hopes, and tears, never 
bowed the will of Napoleon. Josephine perfectly un- 
derstood that such trifles in his path, would be swept 
away like chaff before the resistless march of the 

whirlwind. 

Let not Napoleon, however, be misunderstood. As 

we have said before, he loved Josephine, and this, 

probably, with a stronger affection than he ever gave 

to any other object. But he would not let one of the 



290 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

purposes or plans which he had formed go unaccom- 
plished, though the world were to perish. " All, or 
nothing," was his motto when a boy in Corsica, and it 
was one feeling of his heart when he became a man. 
No plan which he made was a trivial one with him, 
for it affected himself. Everything, in his estimation, 
should be subservient to him, and everything ovei 
which he had the control was made so. With this 
view, we can easily see that his love for Josephine 
would not endure for a moment, if it conflicted with 
any of his designs for self-aggrandizement. The Em- 
press understood it, and knowing that one of his clier- 
ished schemes was for the perpetuity of his empire, she 
now clearly saw that her own sacrifice was inevitable. 
The Prince of Holland had died ; the viceroy, Eugene, 
though adopted by Napoleon, Josephine knew could 
never be the successor to the empire. Upon no living 
member of his own family, would the Emperor fix his 
choice, and there was thus left no alternative to his 
seeking a wife who might bring him up an heir to the 
throne. 

It is not at all unnatural, that Napoleon should have 
so strong a desire for posterity. Aside from political 
motives, and inordinate self-love, such a desire belongs 
to every man. It is in a certain degree the outgoing 
of every one's natural aflfection. The owner of a sin- 
gle hut, or of a petty farm, is unhappy if he have 

" No son of his succeeding," 

o whom he can leave his solitary estate. No on© 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 291 

quits the world without desiring that there should be 
some link to connect hinn still to it ; that there remain 
behind him some stream of influence which has risen 
in himself, and which, when he is gone, shall flow on 
and move mankind. It is a wish natural to universal 
humanity, and there are few to which men cling with 
such sincere attachment. It belonged to Napoleon in 
common with his race, and w^as stronger in him than 
in any other man, because his power was more exten- 
sive, and his influence vaster ; it was a desire com- 
mensurate with his own greatness, which grew with 
every victory, and strengthened with every increase 
of his power, winding itself more and more closely 
about his heart with every step taken in his ascending 
career ; and which accompanied every thought of 
glory, and held a power over him only equalled by 
that which he himself swayed so tremendously over 
the minds of other men. 

Napoleon, however, gave Josephine no direct inti- 
mation of his intentions, but continued to treat her 
with all the cordiality which he had ever manifested. 
The winter passed as we have described, a scene of 
uninterrupted gayety. The Emperor had, however 
found time to plan a great movement upon Spain 
which in the spring he began to carry into execution. 
Napoleon had long been bent upon having the Span- 
ish throne, and by the treaty of Tilsit, the Emperor 
of Russia had covenanted not to interfere with any of 
his designs in this respect, and the field was now open. 

Spain had broken her treaty with France, and thus 
19 M 



292 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

alTorded Napoleon all the pretext which he needed, to 
commence operations against her. His design was 
fixed, that the Pyrenees should no longer separate 
these two independent monarchies ; that the house of 
Bragranza, as well as that of Bourbon, should be demol- 
ished, and that of Bonaparte built upon the ruins of 
them both. 

Partly to make arrangements for this, he left St. 
Cloud early in April, accompanied by Josephine. The 
design of his journey, as well as the fact that he con- 
templated it, were all unknown to the Empress, till a 
few hours previously to their departure. Fontaine- 
bleau was to be their first stopping-place after having 
left St. Cloud, and the following hasty note, written by 
Josephine to the Countess de la Rochefoucauld, her 
lady of honor at Fontainebleau, illustrates the sudden- 
ness with which she was frequently compelled to meet 
the behests of the Emperor. 

" We set out at four this morning,* and will be with 
you to breakfast at ten. I hasten to expedite this bil- 
let, that you may not be taken by surprise. You know 
the Emperor's activity and inflexible resolution ; both 
seem to increase with events. But an hour ago I was 
completely ignorant of this departure. We were at 
cards. ' Be ready, madam,' said he to me, ' to get into 
your carriage at midnight.' ' But,' answered I, ' it is 
now past nine.' ' It is so,' said he, * you must require 
some time for your toilet ; let us start at two.' ' Where 
are you going, if you please ?' ' To Bayonne.' * What, 

* It was the 5th of April. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 293 

SO far ! and my pensioners, I must regulate their af- 
fairs.* * I cannot, madam, refuse you one hour for the 
unfortunate ; take another to write to your friends — 
you will not forget Madam de la Rochefoucauld/ 
Good night, my dear friend. 1 am just falling asleep 
— they will carry me thus to the carriage, and I shall 
not awaken till with you, to bid you good morning and 
embrace you with all my heart." 

The journey thus announced proved an eventful 
one to Josephine as well as to Napoleon. We cannot 
better relate it than by inserting the hasty notes which 
she penned during its progi'ess. It was the last tour 
of importance which she ever made with Napoleon. 

" This evening we leave St. Cloud, in order to visit 
the whole of the western coast of France. I shall 
trace a few notes in pencil. 

" At Etampes* we were stopped by a number of 
young people of both sexes, who presented us, some 
with cherries, other with roses. The Emperor, in 
passing through their village, sent for the mayor and 
the curate. The former, a merry peasant, began to 
banter his compatriots on the nature of their presents 
' Certainly,' said the Emperor, ' however beautiful theirs 
may be, an ear of corn and a bunch of grapes would 
have been more rare.' * Here are three of each sort,' 
replied the rural magistrate ; * and confess, sir, that in 

* "Etarapes is the first town in the Orleannais proceeding from 
Paris to Bordeaux. The passage is interesting, as an example of 
Napoleons manner with his subjects ; but how are we to explain corn 
and grapes in April? Was tliis one of his contrivance'^^" — M^nex. 



294 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

April, it is good farming/ ' Nature has been bountiful 
to your canton,' obs'erved the Emperor, presenting the 
offering to me. ' Accept it, madam ; and forget not | 
those whom Providence deigns to keep in mind. I 
* Providence,' said the curate, * alw^ays blesses the in- 
dustrious ; for they fulfil the most important of his 
laws.' ' Here,' remarked the Emperor, making a sign 
for the postilions to proceed, ' here are men who unite 
flowers and fruits, the useful v/ith the agreeable. They 
deserve to succeed.' 

" Orleans. — The national guard was under arms, 
and the authorities in full attendance ; but from the 
knitting of his brows, I saw that the Emperor was not 
pleased. ' It is painful for me,' were his words, to 
have to repay with severity these expressions of joy. 
But I have no reproaches to make to the people ; I 
address myself to the authorities. You perform the 
functions improperly, or you do not perform them at 
all. How have the sums been employed which T 
granted for the canal ? How comes it, that on the 
roll of sales two thousand arpents of common, as 
dividted in 1805 and 1806, are totally suppressed? I 
require restitution. The national domains have been 
below par, and the purchases more difficult during the 
last eighteen months — the date of your entering upon 
office, Mr. Prefect. Whence are these things? I am 
not ignorant that here there exists two opinions, as 
directly opposed to the goverment as they are to each 
other. I have no desire that opinions should be sub- 
jects of persecution ; but if they break out into deeds 



LIFE OF JOSEPIITXE. 295 

and these deeds be crimes — no pity !' The storm 
passed, the Emperor assumed a' less severe tone, and 
talked familiarly with the bishop and civil functionaries, 
not excepting even the prefect. But his observations 
were just. It is but too certain, that in these depart- 
ments of the Loire the jacobins and emigrants have in 
turn been protected. 

" Bordeaux. — Here exist two dispositions perfectly 
distinct, and that in a reverse sense from those which 
prevail throughout almost the whole of France. There 
the people love the revolution, and the privileged classes 
alone oppose its progress, or rather retard its results. 
These results are strong and liberal institutions, which 
time, that wears out all others, will, on the contrary, 
tend to consolidate. In order to found these institu 
tions upon the ruins of party, there required a con- 
queror who was also a legislator, and that legislator 
continuing to be a conqueror. All must unite in the 
regeneration of a state. To chain down faction, by 
converting its passions into common interests, is but 
little — nothing more, at most, than half the work — if to 
these neighboring interests be not attached. Before 
we can be master at home, at once happy and glorious 
there, we must neither be under apprehensions from 
each other, nor dread the process of erecting a wall of 
partition. But how is this to be accomplished ? First 
by reducmg all to submission, and then by extending 
to each a friendly hand, which may secure without 
humbling. This is the Emperor's doctrine, which he 
has applied to France, which France ha,s devotedly 



296 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

accepted; readily comprehending that a period of 
transition, of trial, of reparation, could not be an era of 
enjoyment. ' To-day,' has the Emperor often said to 
me, * to-day we sow in tears and in blood ; hereafter 
we shall reap glory and liberty.' This is exactly what 
mercantile selfishness prevents them from understand- 
ing at Bordeaux. Altogether opposed to the rest of 
the empire, the body of the people here oppose the new 
institutions, they perceive only the temporary obstacle 
which these institutions present, not to commerce, but 
to their own particular commerce. What to them 
imports the good of to-morrow ? It is the profit of to- 
day they want. Some facts have confirmed these ob- 
servations. While we were on our way to the theatre 
the vivas of the crowd were rare, but within the house 
the applause was general and continued. The coup 
d'cBil of the port is magnificent ; all the ships were 
bung with flags and fired minute guns, to which the 
forts replied. The whole of the animated, and, despite 
its discontent, joyous population, the variety of sounds, 
songs, movements, and costumes, presented a delight- 
ful sight. We were particularly struck on seeing a 
southern dance executed by three hundred young per- 
sons of both sexes, in small brown jackets, blue panta- 
loons, red sashes, straw hats turned up with ribands 
and flowers, who, guided by various instruments, and 
each with castanets or a tambourine, darted forwards, 
united, turned, and leaped with equal rapidity and 
elegance. 

" Bayonne. — About two leagues from this city the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 297 

Emperor was presented with a spectacle worthy of 
him. On the declivity of a mountain gently scooped 
out in different parts of its descent, is pitched one of 
those camps which the foresight of the country has 
provided for its defenders. It is composed of seven 
handsome barracks, different in form and aspect, each 
isolated, surrounded with an orchard in full bearing, a 
well-stocked poultry yard, and at different distances, a 
greater or less quantity of arable land, where a diversity 
of soil yields a variety of produce. One side of the 
mountain is wild, but picturesque, with rocks and 
plants ; the other seems covered with rich tapestry, so 
varied and numerous are the plots of richly-cultivated 
ground. The summit is clothed with an ever-verdant 
forest ; and down the centre, in a deep channel, flows 
a limpid stream, refreshing and fertilizing the whole 
scene. On this spot the veterans who occupy it gave 
a fete to the Emperor, which was at once military and 
rural. The wives, daughters, and little children of 
these brave men formed the most pleasing, as they 
were themselves the noblest, ornament of the festival. 
Amid piles of arms were seen beautiful shrubs covered 
with flowers, while the echoes of the mountain resound- 
ed to the bleating of flocks and the warlike strains of 
a soldiery intoxicated on thus receiving their chief 
The Emperor raised this enthusiasm to the highest 
pitch by sitting down at a table at once quite military 
and perfectly pastoral, and drinking with these brave 
fellows all of whom had risked their hves in his ser- 
vicQ. Toasts were given to all that does honor to the 



298 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

French name — 'to our native land ;' 'to glorv ;' ' to 
liberty.' I dare not mention the attentions of which 
I was the object; they touched me deeply ; for I re- 
garded them as proofs of that veneration which 
France has vowed to the Emperor. 

" At Bayonne an important personage waited the 
Emperor's arrival, namely, Don Pedro de las Torres, 
private envoy of Don Juan Escoiquitz, preceptor of 
the Prince of Asturias. As a consequence of the 
events of Aranjuez, this latter has been proclaimed 
under the title of Ferdinand YII.; but the old King 
Charles, from whom fear had extorted an abdication, 
now protests against that act. The new monarch pre- 
tends that his father, led by the queen, who is in turn 
the puppet of the Prince of Peace, never has had, and 
never can have a will of his own. Meanwhile, the 
nation, taking the alarm, is divided between two heads. 
If one party reproach Charles with being wholly devo- 
ted to the will of Manuel Godoy, the other imputes to 
Ferdinand that of acknowledging no principles of ac- 
tion save those dictated to him by Don Juan Escoi- 
quitz. The first, haughty and impertinent, as are all 
favorites, keeps his master in bondage and the peo- 
ple in humiliation ; the second, honey -tongued and 
wheedling, at once deceives the nation and enslaves 
his pupil. Both have caused, and still cause the mis- 
fortunes of Spain. 

" What in truth can be more deplorable than the 
respective situation of the governors and governed? 
The former are without confidence, the latter- with mt 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 29& 

attachment Amid these two factions, which may well 
be termed parricidal, a third has secretly sprung up, 
which calculates upon, perhaps encourages their mis- 
understanding, in order to favor the triumph of liberty. 
But is ignorant and superstitious Spain prepared to re- 
ceive this blessing? With her haughty nobles, and 
bigoted priesthood, her slothful population, how can 
she execute an enterprise which supposes the love 
of equality, the practice of toleration, and an heroic 
activity ? 

" These are things which the Emperor will have to 
consider. He is appealed to by all parties as mediator ; 
he arrives among them without knowledge of them, 
and, as a man, feels perfect impartiality. His enlight- 
ened policy will take counsel of necessity ; and in this 
great quarrel, of which he is constituted umpire, will 
reconcile what is due to the interests of France with 
what is demanded for the safety of Spain. 

" This same Don Pedro de las Torres has not been 
sent without his errand. Don Juan, his patron, knew 
that lie possessed, some leagues from Bayonne, an ex- 
tensive farm, on which are bred numerous flocks of 
merinoes. Thither, under a plausible pretext, we were 
conducted to-day. After a feast of really rustic mag- 
nificence, we made the tour of the possession on foot. 
At the bottom of a verdant dell, surrounded on all sides 
by rocks covered with moss and flowers, all of a sud- 
den a picturesque cot appeared lightly suspended on a 
projecting point of rock, while round it were feeding 

between seven and eight hundred sheep of the most 
M* 



300 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

beautiful breed. We could not restrain a cry of ad 
miration; and upon the Emperor addressing him in 
some compliments, Don Pedro declared that these 
flocks belonged of right to me. ' The king, my master/ 
added he, ' knows the Empress's taste for rural occupa 
tions ; and as this species of sheep is little known in 
France, and will constitute the principal ornament, and 
consequently wealth of a farm, he entreats her not to 
deprive herself of an offering at once so useful and so 
agreeable.' ' Don Pedro,' replied the Emperor, with a 
tone of severity, ' the Empress cannot accept the pres- 
ent save from the hands of the king, and your master 
is not yet one. Wait, before making your offering, un- 
til your own nation and I have decided.' The remain- 
der of the visit was very ceremonious." 

At Bayonne, also, they met the Prince of Asturias, 
who had been induced to cross the Bidassoa in the 
vain hope of being recognized by Napoleon as king of 
Spain. Such, however, were not at all the Emperor's 
plans ; his own designs upon Spain would admit of no 
such course. He promptly told Ferdinand that he 
must relinquish the throne. Finding him less tractable 
than he had anticipated. Napoleon ordered Murat at 
Madrid to send over Charles IV. and the Queen to 
Bayonne. The feuds in their own family, and in the 
Spanish government, were such that they instantly 
obeyed, and meeting Napoleon they threw themselves 
at once and entirely upon his protection. The efforts 
of Charles and the Emperor were now brought to bear 
upon Ferdinand, to induce him to resign his claims to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 301 

the succession ot* the Spanish crown. Charles himself 
had previously abdicated the throne in favor of Fer- 
dinand, but this act had been unrecognized by J^apo- 
leon, and it vras now regarded as void. On the 5th 
of May, Charles renewed his abdication, but at this 
time giving his crown to ISTapoleon. On the 12th of 
the same month, Ferdinand was brought to a renun- 
ciation of all his claims, thus surrendering to l^apo- 
leon the full title to the inheritance of Arragon and 
Castile. 

The struggles by which he was afterwards compelled 
to maintain this possession belong to Napoleon's rather 
than to Josephine's history. But in the manoeuvrings 
which were carried on at Bayonne and by which they 
were gained, Josephine acted her full part. Her bril- 
liant conversation and the charms of her person won 
the favor of the Spanish King. Her rare elegance and 
grace captivated the heart of the Spanish Queen ; 
while her remarkable insight into character, and the 
readiness with which she detected motives, assisted 
Napoleon much in influencing Charles and Ferdinand. 
The issue was doubtless owing mainly to the finesse 
of the Emperor, but the adroitness of Josephine exert- 
ed no feeble influence in bringing matters to a success- 
ful termination. Josephine had an apprehension of the 
result to which all these things might lead, which Na- 
poleon seems never to have entertained. In anticipa- 
ting the consequences of any great undertaking, her 
opmion, if it diflfered from his, was very likely to be the 
safer one. It was at least so in the present case. The 



302 LIFE OF JOSEPHINi:. 

Emperor never believed that his plans could fail. As 
Josephine once said of him, and none could speak from 
a better knowledge — " Napoleon is persuaded that he 
s to subjugate all the nations of the earth. He cher- 
shes such a confidence in his star, that should he be 
abandoned to-morrow by his family and allies, a wan- 
derer and proscribed, he would support life, convinced 
that he should yet triumph over all obstacles, and ac- 
complish his destiny by realizing his mighty designs." 
This confidence, if it enabled him to realize some of 
his plans, certainly prevented him from seeing the 
difficulties which would attend the accomplishment of 
others. Josephine, calm and unbiased, looked at every 
possible danger and formed an opinion in reference to 
it, in many cases, far more accurately than Napoleon. 
In the present instance, had he taken her advice he 
would have pursued a different, and, as the result 
showed, a wiser course. His compact with Charles 
and Ferdinand, and the campaign which grew out of 
it, were the first steps to his overthrow. 

Leaving Bayonne on the 21st of July, the imperial 
pair continued their journey, visiting Pau, Tarbes, Tou- 
louse, Montauban, Bordeaux, La Vendee, and Nantes. 
Everywhere they w^ere received with the greatest fa- 
vor. Public addresses, congratulating him upon his 
success, and applauding his benevolent deeds, met the 
Emperor in every city. Citizens flocked to meet him 
crowding in his path, and hailing him as the liberator 
and savior of their country. Old men tottered forth 
to catch one look at the wonderful Corsican, who strode 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 303 

SO rapidly to eminence, and having seen him, went 
again to their homes, contented now to die. Little 
children, who had been hushed to stillness by the story 
of his battles, cried to behold him, and were seen in 
their nurses' arms in every street through which he 
passed. His whole course was like a triumphal pro- 
cession ; and he perfectly understood how to avail him- 
self of it, and make it turn to his future advantage 
He manifested an affability and interest in the affairs 
of the common people which delighted them ; and 
when he returned to Paris, he knew that he could rely 
on the entire devotion to his cause, of every province 
through which he had journeyed. 

Josephine evidently seemed to have enjoyed this 
tour. She was pleased with the affection with which 
the Emperor was received, for her whole heart was 
still his own, and delighted with everything which 
could minister to his pleasure or success. Still, she 
returned to Paris more fullv convinced than ever that 
the "Emperor's intentions were, when a convenient 
time should come, to set her aside and place the dia- 
dem which she wore, upon another brow. 

It is singular, that this same journey, which opened 
to Josephine more fully Napoleon's plans concerning 
herself, also shed a stronger light upon the difficulty 
of carrying these plans into execution. The proofs of 
the Empress's goodness and attachment were displayed 
to him at every step of the way, and he had never seen 
them so fully before, because they had never before 
contrasted so beautifully with his own dark designs. 



304 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Without a murmur she had left St. Cloud at his bid- 
ding, and had endured with cheerfulness the change 
from the ease of a palace to the inconvenience of a 
journey, long and hastily provided for, finding hourly 
satisfaction in the thought that she w^as gratifying him. 
She had cherished him under all the weariness of the 
journey, and made him feel that every joy was sweeter 
because it was witnessed by her. She had added in 
this tour another chain around his heart, which he felt 
it would be difficult to break when he put her away. 
And he remembered his lowly fortunes when he won 
his bride, and the assistance she had rendered in bring- 
ing him to his present renown. He thought of his ab- 
sence in Egypt, of his trials and apprehensions there, 
and then he reflected that every fear had been dis- 
pelled, and every obstacle in the way of his success 
removed before his return, chiefly by the efforts which 
Josephine had put forth in his behalf. He recollected 
her sacrifices for him, and how many personal com- 
forts she had freely given up to advance his interests. 
The vision of Josephine as Empress also rose before 
him. He thought of her talents and taste ; he remem- 
bered the grace and dignity with which she was wont 
to play her part in the imperial pageant. He heard 
over and again the murmur of admiration which was 
always called forth at her approach. All these he 
could not slight, none of them could he forget, yet 
though the difficulties in the way of his separation 
from her were thus increased by the excursion to Ba« 
yonne, his purposes for taking such a step had never 



LIFE OF JOSEPHII^^E. 305 

been stronger than when he entered the capital on 
their return. The history of Bonaparte is pre-emi- 
nently that of one in whose path difficulties only ap- 
peared to fan the flame and increase the strength of 
the desire, which they seemed to oppose. 

The Emperor and Josephine reached St. Cloud 
early in August. The Emperor's birthday was cele- 
brated a few days afterwards* with unusual rejoicings. 
The acquisition of Spain to the Great Empire, which 
was supposed to have been accomplished by the meas- 
ures taken at Bayonne, gave Bonaparte greater favor 
than ever in the eyes of the people. Unconscious of 
the struggle which was yet to ensue, they looked only 
at the outward appearance of the picture, and believed 
that the great idea for which Louis XIV. had labored, 
was now realized by the force of Napoleon's mightier 
genius. Triumphal arches were erected in honor of 
him, and the streets through which he passed were 
strewed with flowers. Every bell in Paris rung out 
its acclamations in honor of the great hero, whose suc- 
cess no obstacle could check — whose fame no rival 
that the world had produced, could now eclipse. Upon 
the cause of all these rejoicings, Josephine looked with 
distrust. She saw that the acquisition of Spain to the 
French empire was only a nominal one, and though 
she could not foresee that the lives of a million of 
Frenchmen were yet to be sacrificed in order to main- 
tain it, she did anticipate fearful results. Our task 
being mainly with Josephine, we might leave all far- 

* Napoleon was born August 15th, 1769. 



306 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ther allusions to Spanish affairs, since her immediate 
connection with them ceased upon her return to the 
capital. To show, however, that she had ground for 
the fears which she cherished, we cannot forbear quot- 
ing in this connection from the language of Napoleon 
himself, made years afterwards, when the hand oL ad- 
versity had hurled him from his eminence, and forced 
him to look calmly back upon the varied scenes of his 
wonderful destiny. He thus spoke at St. Helena : — 

" It was that unhappy war in Spain which ruined 
me. The results have irrevocably proved that I was 
in the wrong. There were serious faults in the exe- 
cution. One of the greatest was that of having at- 
tached so much importance to the dethronement of 
the Bourbons. Charles the IV. was worn out. I 
might have given a liberal constitution to the Spanish 
nation, and charged Ferdinand with its execution. If 
he had put it forth in good faith, Spain would have 
prospered, and put itself in harmony with our new 
constitutions ; if he had failed in the performance of 
his engagements, he would have met with his dismis- 
sal from the Spaniards themselves. ' Yci are about 
to undertake,' said Escoiquiz to me, ' on' of the labors 
of Hercules, where, if you please, nr'.hing but child's 
play is to be encountered.' The unfortunate war in 
Spain proved a real wound, the first cause of the mis- 
fortunes of France. If I could have foreseen that that 
afiair would have caused me so much vexation and 
chagrin, I would never have engaged in it. But after 
the first steps were taken in the affair, it was impossi- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHES^E. 307 

ble for me to recede. When I saw those imhecilles 
quarrelHng and trying to dethrone each other, 1 
thought I might as well take advantage of it to dispos- 
sess an inimical family ; but I was not the contriver 
of their disputes. Had I known at the first that the 
transaction would have given me so much trouble, J 
would never have attempted it." 

Josephine was now again to be alone. Matters of 
state demanded Napoleon's absence from Paris, and 
in this journey he chose to leave the Empress at St. 
Cloud. On the 21st of September, he set out to meet 
the Emperor of Russia at Erfurth, ostensibly to renew 
the treaty of amity to which they had sworn at Tilsit. 
It was a matter of the highest importance to Bona- 
parte, that Alexander should for the present keep the 
peace which now existed between Russia and France. 
His troubles were already such that the influence of 
Alexander might have made the scale preponderate 
fearfully against him. The affairs in Spain had al- 
ready begun to assume a new and threatening appear- 
ance. Austria w^as evidently looking only for a favor- 
able opportunity to take up arms against France. 
Prussia was desirous to throw off the yoke which 
Napoleon had imposed upon her ; the Burschenschafts 
were laboring zealously and effectually for the libera- 
tion of Germany, and Holland was ready to take up 
hostilities at a moment's warning. All this Napoleon 
knew, and gave all his efforts to dispel the blackening 
cloud before it should burst in a resistless storm upon 
his head. 20 



308 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 

lie reached Erfurth on the 27th of September, and 
found Alexander as tractable as at then- former inter- 
view at Tilsit. The Czar himself had ambitious de- 
signs, and wished the assurance that his French ally 
would not interfere with his attempts upon Turkey, 
Sweden and Finland. Napoleon was very ready to 
promise this, upon the condition that his own transac- 
tions in Spain should be ratified, and that he should be 
unmolested in his farther attempts to increase his 
power. These matters being settled. Napoleon had 
another scheme which in his view was full as impor- 
tant as the first. He renewed to Alexander the pro- 
posals which he had formerly hinted at Tilsit, for a 
matrimonial alliance with the imperial family of Rus- 
sia. He intended to enter on such negotiations when 
he left Paris, and if this was not the chief design of his 
journey, it was at least liis chief reason for making it 
alone. His mind, was now fully bent upon a divorce, 
and a new marriage, and the house of Russia seemed 
at the present time to offer him the most eligible con- 
nection. Alexander saw the embarrassment which 
would ensue should such an alliance be consummated, 
and when a direct overture was made to him for the 
hand of one of the Russian Archduchesses, he declined 
the proposal, and evaded the real difficulty by alleging 
that the difference in their systems of religion offered 
an insurmountable obstacle in the way of J^apoleon's 
desires. E'apoleon, of course, penetrated this flimsy 
pretext at a glance, and left Erfurth highly indignant, 
though he manifested no outward signs of displeasure. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 309 

It was of the first importance, that he should keep up 
friendly relations with Russia, and he therefore pocket- 
ed an indignity, which under more favorable circum- 
stances he would have terribly revenged. 

Josephine heard of all these transactions at St. 
Cloud, though Napoleon had not as yet communicated 
to her a word upon a subject which so deeply affected 
the hopes and happiness of her life. Her pride en- 
abled her to conceal from her attendants the agitation 
of her spirit, but there were moments of bitter anguish 
when she was alone, and could commune unobserved 
with the secrets of her own heart. Vague rumors of 
the proposals which Napoleon had made to Alexander, 
had floated to the palace and were commented upon 
by the maids of honor, who wondered that the step of 
the Empress could be light, and her smile so gay, when 
they knew that her heart was breaking under the bur- 
den of sorrow. Josephine appeared cheerful and even 
mirthful. Her daily walks were made, and her char- 
ities distributed with the gentleness and generosity 
which had always characterized her. Her favorite 
swan was not for a day unvisited ; her pet gazelle was 
never denied a fond caress. She had a smile and a 
kind word for every one; and whether doing the hon 
ors of the imperial court, or attending to the wants of 
some poor pensioner upon her bounty — whether amid 
her maids of honor or with the nobles of the empire, in 
all that outward circumstances could indicate, she was 
the same blithesome being as before. However dark 
were her prospects, she still hoped on, and determined 



310 LIFE OF JOSEPHINIC. 

to labor on, knowing that the sunshine will at last 
melt down the iceberg whose glittering front has for 
centuries stood in cold defiance of its beams. When 
Napoleon returned to St. Cloud, she received him 
with her usual cordiality. Both she and the Emperor 
liad cherished suspicion, and repeatedly manifested this 
disposition to each other ; but Josephine, though she 
had more reason to indulge the sentiment than ever 
before, felt that the present was no time for its exhibi- 
tion. Napoleon, also apprehensive of giving Josephine 
premature indication of his views, was unusually af- 
fable and attentive. Thus a few weeks vanished, 
each feeling, but neither disclosing, constraint in the 
other's society ; till Napoleon having opened the meet- 
ing of the Legislative Body, at Paris, with great pomp, 
left Josephine at St. Cloud on the 27th of October, and 
hastened to clear up his already darkening prospects 
in Spain. 

Josephine earnestly desired to accompany him in 
this expedition. She knew its difficulties and perils, 
and was willing to brave them in the hope of allevi- 
ating them, but especially from the desire of exerting 
the spell of her constant influence over the heart of 
Napoleon. Her request was denied, firmly, but with 
apparent kindness. The Emperor represented to her 
the annoyances to which she would be constantly sub- 
jected, and pleaded the need which she had of repose. 
She assured him that she could bear the trials, and 
needed no rest ; that she should be happier amid the 
privations of the camp, and the tumults of war, by his 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 311 

side, than alone, with all the pleasures of the imperial 
palace at her command. Napoleon was deeply touch- 
ed with this exhibition of Josephine's love, yet per- 
sisted in his refusal ; for his resolution once taken was 
never reversed, and Josephine bade him farewell on 
the 27th of October, then retired to her chamber to 
weep, in secret, tears more bitter than any previous 
agony had made to flow. 

In the campaign upon which he now entered. Na- 
poleon found enough to occupy his attention, without 
proceeding farther with his plans for the divorce of 
Josephine. All Spain was alive with hostility. In 
every quarter of the land, from Navarre to Andalusia, 
from Catalonia to Gallicia, the voice of opposition was 
swelling loud against him. The notes of freedom were 
echoed from every mountain and valley, hamlet and 
city, in tones which would have blanched the cheek 
and shaken the heroism of any ordinary invader. 
The Spanish armies, though driven from the plains, 
were still unconquered. The Alpine nests of Asturias ; 
the inaccessible retreats of Gallicia ; the rugged ranges 
which swept between the Duero and the Guadal- 
quivir; every mountain fastness, from the Pyrenees 
to the Sierra Nevada, swarmed with sturdy and in- 
vincible defenders. Ferdinand VII. had been pro- 
claimed sovereign at Madrid, and King Joseph, whom 
Napoleon had crowned, had been driven from the cap- 
ital. Toledo had risen in. insurrection, and kindled a 
flame of patriotic resentment against France, which 
spread like a conflagjration throughout the Peninsula. 



312 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

As though by a simultaneous impulse, the citizens of 
almost every town in Spain were ridding themselves 
of the French residents by a terrible butchery. In 
Cadiz and Seville, in Carthagena and Valencia, the 
streets were red with the flow of blood. The French 
armies had, also, met with untold disasters. After 
their first victory,*' the tide of battle had everywhere 
turned against them. Duhesme had been forced to 
shut himself up in Barcelona by the brave Catalonian 
mountaineers ; Moncey, who had attempted the siege 
of Valencia, had been beaten back from its walls with 
slaughter and disgrace ; Dupont had been driven suc- 
cessively from Jaen, and Baylen, to Menjibar, and had 
at last been forced to surrender himself and his men as 
prisoners, upon the most humiliating terms. Lefebvre 
had found the indomitable zeal of the Spaniards proof 
against all his attempts upon Saragossa, and had at last 
abruptly abandoned the siege. The spirit which had 
in days of old lived in the unconquerable defenders of 
Numantia and Saguntum, seemed everywhere to be 
breathed again into the breasts of their heroic de- 
scendants. As if the efforts and successes of the 
Spaniards were not enough to intimidate the French 
invaders, a source of fresh anxiety at this time ap- 
peared in another quarter. A heavy English force 
had landed in the Peninsula, and was now moving for- 
ward with rapid march towards the scene of conflict. 
The advance guard of the English army had already 

* At Riosecca. This battle was fought on the 14th of July, and 
ended in tine total overthrow of the united Spani.^i anuv 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 313 

crossed the Guadarrama mountains, when Napoleon 
came down in the midst of the French host, which lay 
encamped at Vittoria. His eye glanced over the 
whole state of things in a moment, and saw that not an 
instant was to be lost. His plan of operations was im- 
mediately laid, and, with the energy which his pres- 
ence never failed to inspire, was carried into execution 
at once. The immense host, which, in anticipation of 
his arrival, he had collected at Vittoria, was instantly 
put in motion. Marshals Victor and Lefebvre, with 
forty thousand men, were commanded to march upon 
the Spanish troops who were waiting for a junc- 
tion with the approaching English army, in Biscay. 
Soult was ordered to put to rout Count de Belvidere 
in Estremadura, while Napoleon himself, taking the 
main strength of his army, hastened with the rapidity 
and resistlessness of an avalanche against the whole 
left wing of the Spanish host, as it lay stretched from 
Bilboa to Burgos. Everywhere, he was successful. 
The Spanish armies melted away like dew before him, 
and the fate of all those upon the Ebro was finally 
sealed, almost before the English forces had heard that 
Napoleon had arrived in Spain. Following up his 
successes, the Emperor marched at once upon Madrid, 
which he entered upon the 4th of December, after a 
stern but ineffectual resistance. Leaving the capital 
as soon as he had established his authority there, and 
collecting his forces, he hurled himself with resistless 
energy upon the British army, which, under the com- 
mand of Sir John Moore, had already retieated to 



314 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

(^orunna. Tlie battle ot Corunna took place on the 
lOth of January, 1809, resulting in the complete dis- 
comfiture of the English, and the acknowledgment, 
for the time, of Napoleon's supremacy over Spain. 
Flushed with his victories, and unable to foresee the 
subsequent disasters for which they opened the way, 
the Emperor left tlie command of the French battalions 
in the Peninsula to his brother Joseph, and then hastily 
departed for Paris. He reached St. Cloud on the 23d 
of January, having achieved the most astonishing re- 
sults in a campaign of but little over two months' dura- 
tion. In Bonaparte's whole course he was constantly 
crowding into a moment, events which it would have 
taken other men a lifetime to have brought about. He 
moved over the earth, as a meteor flashes across the 
sky, surprising and startling men by the suddenness 
and splendor of his career. 

But little of the time which Napoleon now spent at 
the palace was devoted to Josephine's society ; fresh 
cares were crowding upon him. New^s that the war 
in Spain was, after all, still undecided, reached his ears, 
while indications that Austria was designing war upon 
France, were becoming distinct and authentic. The 
Empress was more neglected, and the counsel which 
Napoleon had heretofore frequently asked in reference 
to his plans, was now rarely sought. This was un- 
noticed by all but Josephine, and the rumors of a 
divorce were less common than formerly. To others, 
Napoleon appeared uniformly kind towards her, and in 
their daily intercourse at St. Cloud, or in their occa- 



LIPJE OF JOSEPHINE. 315 

sional excursions together to the parks of Rambouihet, 
his cherished purpose was not anticipated by the ordi- 
nary observer. He was struggling to keep from Jose- 
phine the knowledge of his designs, while she was en- 
deavoring, as constantly, to keep him ignorant of the 
fact that she fathomed them all. While this double 
game was played, neither could be happy, but Jose- 
phine was continually seeking his society, hoping, 
though against hope, that she might break, for once, the 
iron determination of Napoleon. 

It was almost morning, of the 12th of April, that a 
courier came dashing to the palace gates, demanding 
instant audience of the Emperor. Bonaparte, who 
was still up, tore open the despatches which the cou- 
rier laid before him, and read with a flashing eye the 
tidings that Austria had broken the treaty of peace, 
and that Prince Charles was already marching his 
legions against the French in Bavaria. As usual, his 
course was decided instantly ; and hastily proceeding 
to the apartments of the Empress, who had already re- 
tired, he broke her slumbers, and bade her be ready in 
two hours to accompany him to the borders of Ger- 
many. Said he, " You have played the part of Em- 
press long enough ; you must now again become the 
wife of a general. I leave immediately ; you will go 
with me to Strasburg." This was the first intimation 
which Josephine had received that it was the Emperor's 
intention that she should accompany him on his con- 
templated Austrian campaign-f As ever, however, she 
unhesitatinglv obeyed the summons. She was too 

.NT 



316 LIFE or JOSEPHINE. 

familiar with the suddenness of Napoleon's plans to be 
taken with surprise by any new movement, and was 
consequently never wholly unprepared for an unex- 
pected journey. Before three o'clock they set off 
lirom St Cloud. Both were in good spirits. Napoleon 
had a presentiment that he should conquer the Aus- 
trians, and Josephine, after having been denied her re- 
quest to accompany the Emperor to Spain, hailed this 
privilege as a mark of returniiig favor. The idea that 
he could be defeated seems never to have entered Na- 
poleon's mind, and he appeared to regard the Austrian 
outbreak, as only a new opportunity of adding to his 
power. His destiny, as he fancied, was leading him 
on another stride in the pathway to greatness. He 
was therefore in the best possible humor, and his 
suavity and attentions brought back to Josephine the 
glad memories of other days. 

Their route to Strasburg lay through Champagne 
and Lorraine, embracing some of the finest regions in 
France. The valleys of the Marne and Meuse, en- 
chanted the travellers with their lovely scenery and 
agricultural wealth. Napoleon was well pleased to see 
the marks of thrift and industry displayed on every 
hand, for he could expect from these fresh supplies for 
his coffers and conscript rolls. A pleasing incdent in 
this journey illustrates the character of both. On leav- 
ing one of the villages in Lorraine, Josephine called his 
attention to an old woman who was kneeling on the 
steps of the chapel, bathed in tears. Her grief touched 
^le heart of the Empress, who sent for her, and bade 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 31'f 

her tell the cause of her sadness. Said she, " My kind 
friends, my poor grandson Joseph has been included in 
the conscription, and for nine days have I come here 
regularly to make my neuvaine that he might draw a 
good lot ; and that which he has drawn bears the num- 
ber 4. Thus I lose not only my grandson, but my 
prayers also. Nor is this all ; my eldest son's daughter 
is about to marry one of our neighbors, named Michael ; 
and Michael now refuses to marry her, on account of 
Joseph, her brother, being in the conscription. Should 
my son conclude to procure a substitute for poor 
Joseph, why, then adieu to Julie's dowry, for he would 
give her nothing ; and that dowry is to be six hundred 
francs in cash." " Very good, take that," said the 
Emperor — sending her a bank note. " You will find a 
thousand to supply his place for that amount. I want 
soldiers, and for that purpose I encourage marriages." 
Josephine was also so much interested in the story, that 
when she arrived at Strasburg, she sent Julie a rich 
bridal present. This incident illustrates the kindness 
which was always active in the Empress, and which 
was not a stranger to Napoleon's heart. 

At Strasburg, on the confines of France and Ger- 
many, Bonaparte left Josephine and hurried on to 
Frankfort, and the scene of action. The faithful Em- 
press would have joyfully accompanied him on his 
way, but refusing his assent, she was left behind to 
watch the progress of the campaign, the event of which 
was to have so decisive an influence upon her own 
happiness. 



318 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

In addition to the ladies of her court who attended 
her at Strasburg, Hortense and her children, the Queen 
of Westphalia, and the Princess Stephanie contributed 
by their presence to remove the gloom of her separa- 
tion. In the society of these, she passed a few pleasant 
weeks at Strasburg, when a messenger from Paris 
summoned her thither as regent of the Empire again, 
during Bonaparte's absence. She returned to St. 
Cloud, and amid scenes of former enjoyment dreaded 
each day more deeply the fatal blow, which from the 
progress of affairs in Austria, she perceived was inevi- 
table, and which was to sever the strongest ties forever. 

To understand more fully the denouement of Jose- 
phine's strange destiny, we must now recur to Napo- 
leon in his present campaign. Like those of previous 
dates, this was a series of brilliant successes. He 
found upon his arrival in the camp that his army was 
in disorder, and that the important plans, which he 
had left an incompetent Marshal* to carry out, had 
been only partially put in execution. His forces had 
been scattered in various directions, under the misera- 
ble pretext of keeping in check several trifling divisions 
of the Austrian host, while Prince Charles with the 
main body of his force was already occupying the 
field. On the 17th of April, he arrived in the French 
camp at Donauworth, and instantly began his work, 
unfatigued by the journey, or undismayed by the pros 
pects before him. As rapidly as possible he collected 
his scattered soldiers, and took up his line of march for 

* Berthier. 



LIFE OF J<»^>KPUIXK. 319 

Vienna. At Abensberg, at Eckinuhl, and at Ratisbon, 
the Austrians, who altempted in great strength to 
block up his path, were totally routed, and Prince 
Charles was forced to cross the Danube with the rem- 
nant of his army, thus leaving Napoleon an unobstruct- 
ed way to the capital. He continued his course as 
rapidly as he commenced it, and after a short struggle, 
on the 12th of May, his armies entered and took 
possession of Vienna. The tidings of these successes 
vvere borne to Josephine, and received by her with 
gratitude ; but a new scene in the drama was soon to 
appear. The imperial family of Austria, with one 
exception, had hastily left the capital, to save them- 
selves from the hands of the conqueror. The Arch- 
duchess, Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor Fran- 
cis II., alone remained, and met with becoming dignity 
the possessor of her father's throne, at Schoenbrunn * 
It is possible that Napoleon, when refused a matri- 
monial alliance with Russia, had determined to seek 
such a connection with Austria ; it is, at least, certain, 
that this was in contemplation when he entered upon 
his present campaign. When the Archduchess was 
presented, his choice was made, and with his natural 
impetuosity, he at once paid his court and addresses to 
her. The haughty daughter of the Caesars heard his 
offers calmly, but refused to compromise her dignity in 
the slightest degree. She told him it was no time then 

* This chateau was built by Maria Theresa, in 1Y54, and is distant 
only a mile from Vienna. Maria Louisa preferred it to all the palaces 
of her father. 



320 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

to listen to his vows, and demanded protection for 
herself, and safety for her fugitive family. Napoleon 
left her, resolved that the war should not cease till the 
Emperor of Austria was forced to surrender to him 
this beautiful prize. 

All this was borne to Josephine upon the wings of 
the wind. Her private couriers told her of the youth 
and charms of the Archduchess, and exaggerated the 
influence which they were exerting over Bonaparte. 
Then followed the bulletin of battle. The tide of war 
was again swelling to its flood, and the heart of the 
devoted Empress forgot its jealousy in the apprehen- 
sion for a husband's safety. Now his star was in the 
ascendant — then it seemed to sink, and again it rose 
in glory, and blazed with a brighter splendor than be- 
fore. Napoleon was triumphant — the campaign was 
ended — a treaty of peace had been signed — and the 
conqueror of another empire was again on his return 
to France. 

Austria was completely humbled, but yet the terms 
upon which peace was made, were so favorable to her 
that all Europe was astonished. Napoleon was not 
accustomed to show undue liberality when matters of 
this kind were at his entire disposal, but in the present 
instance, he had allowed Austria to retain nine millions 
of square miles of her territory, while he only took for 
France a few small provinces,^ and had given her 

* These were Trieste, the districts of Carniola, Friuli, the circle 
of Villach, and small parts of Croatia, and Dalncatia, embracing about 
two hundred thousand square miles. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 321 

peace, upon conditions which still left her, next to 
France and Russia, the most formidable power upon 
the continent. It was said at the time, and with great 
probability, that the reason for these remarkable con- 
cessions lay in the contemplated matrimonial alliance 
between Bonaparte and the house of Hapsburg ; though 
the statement that his marriage was one of the secret 
articles in the treaty of peace, was afterwards denied 
by Napoleon. 

On the 16th of October, Bonaparte left Schoenbrunn ; 
at Munich, he stopped and despatched a courier to the 
Empress at St. Cloud, apprising her that he should 
arrive at Fontainebleau on the 27th, and directing the 
court to proceed thither to receive him. So rapid, 
however, was his progress, that he reached Fontaine- 
bleau at ten o'clock on the morning of the 2Gth, and of 
course found no preparations made for his reception. 
This threw him into a rage, though he could not have 
forgotten that his arrival was a day earlier than he had 
fixed, and cursing their tardiness, ordered a courier to 
gallop immediately to St. Cloud, and announce to the 
Empress his arrival. Fontainebleau is forty miles 
distant, and it was one o'clock before Josephine re- 
ceived the intelligence. Aware of the Emperor's 
disposition, she set off hastily, with a feeling of dismay, 
fearing he might charge the consequences of his own 
haste upon her. 

Towards evening, Josephine arrived ; Bonaparte 
was writing in his library, and when an attendant 
told him the Empress had come, he took no notice of 



322 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the announcement. It was the first time he had failed 
to welcome her after absence, and not only Josephine, 
but all, marked so strange a mood. Inquiring after 
him, the Empress ran to the library, threw open the 
doors, and, unheralded, stepped forward to greet him. 
At her first salutation, the Emperor raised his eyes, 
and without rising from his seat, gave her a look that 
was like the touch of death. " Ah ! so you are come, 
madam," said he. " 'Tis well ; I was just about to set 
out for St. Cloud." Josephine attempted to answer, 
but her emotions choked her, and she burst into tears. 
Was this the reception which was to requite her love, 
her fears for his safety, her eflforts for his success ? 
As she stood sobbing there, Napoleon's heart smote 
him, and rising, he apologized for his rudeness. " For- 
give me," he said, tenderly embracing her — " I own 
I was wrong. Let us be friends again." Josephine 
was ready for a reconciliation, but she could not at 
once dry her tears. Retiring to dress, they flowed 
afresh, and for several moments she freely indulged 
them. What meant his coldness, and then his return- 
ing favor ? Was his kindness real, or did he show it 
only to give her a false hope, as the boa is said to 
loosen its folds and look brightly in the eye of its vic- 
tim, as a prelude to the last struggle ? 

When Josephine and the Emperor again met, it was 
wifli mutual smiles, and apparent cordiality. Each 
seemed to have forgotten the previous misunderstand- 
ing, and mainly desirous of treating the other with 
affection. It was not many days, however, before the 



LIFTC OF JOSEPHINE. 323 

attendants saw tokens of alienation. The manners of 
the Emperor towards Josephine, assumed a formality, 
and those of the Empress towards him, betra3^ed an 
unusual constraint. It was evident that something 
had ruffled the tide of their domestic happiness. Their 
time was spent mostl}^ at Fontainebleau, interspersed 
with occasional visits to the capital. When at Paris, 
everything appeared in its accustomed way, and Jose- 
phine was ever glad of a pretext which called them 
there, for at the palace life was irksome and full of 
disquiet. Napoleon had told her that she stood in the 
way of his prosperity, that he needed not only an heir, 
but that to render his power stable, he must seek an 
alliance with one of the great reigning houses of Eu- 
rope, that she lay as ever near his heart, but bade her 
ask herself the question, if it would be a pleasing re- 
flection, that the great empire to whose formation she 
had essentially contributed, was to crumble away at 
his death. " What a glorious sacrifice," he would say, 
"you can make, not only to myself but to our empire." 
Josephine would answer sometimes by tears, then by 
supplications, and again by arguments, to which even 
!N"apoleon could not reply. She would appeal by turns 
to his generosity, to his former love, and to his super- 
stition. She would talk to him of that mysterious in- 
fluence which had bound them together, and against 
which he might not rashly sin. " See there," said 
she to him, one starlight evening, as they sat alone at 
a window of the palace, — " Bonaparte, behold that 
bright star ; it is mine ! and remember, to mine, not to 
^1 N* 



324 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 

thine, has sovereignty been promised. Separate, then, 
our fates, and your star fades !" 

Nothing, however, could swerve the Emperor from 
his purpose, and Josephine saw from day to day, that 
her influence over him was dechning. It was a hu- 
miliating thought to her, that her attendants noticed 
this, and even her waiting-maids had already begun 
to regard her in the light of a repudiated wife. " In 
what self-constraint/' said she, " did I pass the period 
during which, though no longer his wife, I was obliged 
to appear so to all eyes ! Ah ! what looks were those 
which the courtiers suffered to fall upon me." The 
private passage-way between her apartments and the 
Emperor's had been closed by his orders, and the free 
and joyous intercourse which they had frequently held 
'together seemed past forever. A dark shadow rested 
over the path of Josephine, and she moved slowly for- 
Vi^ard into its ever deepening obscurity, groping for 
light amid the chaos of happiness which once was 
hers. The language of her thoughts was, as our Eng- 
lish poet expressed it, 

" Like the lily, 
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, 
I'll hang my head, and perish." 

Bonaparte endeavored to act his part without be- 
traying his emotion, but it was in vain. The strong 
man who had smiled in the face of dano^er and death, 
trembled as he drew near the closing scenes of this 
strange drama. Some have represented him as ap- 
pearing to act a comedy, and pass with perfect calm- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 325 

ness through the ordeal ; but this is only an outside 
view of the picture. It was no farce that made Napo- 
leon Bonaparte weep in his chamber, while his whole 
frame shook with the emotions which were wildly 
struggling in his breast. But the iron hand of destiny 
was upon him, destiny which had impelled him on in 
the career of glory, and still pointed to a brighter emi- 
nence beyond — and he could not resist it. He looked 
before him, but the abyss which was already yawning 
at his feet was covered, and like a bed of flowers, upon 
which his star shone undimmed. The die was cast, 
his resolution was irrevocably taken, and though, while 
he should carry it into action, clouds might gather 
upon his sky, they would roll away, leaving his path 
the clearer and brighter, in contrast with a transient 
eclipse. 

It was the last day of November, that he formally 
announced his purposes to Josephine. He had previ- 
ously urged her to consent to the divorce, but had 
never before positively told her that she must cease to 
be his wife. Upon this day, dinner had been served 
as usual, to w^hich the Emperor and Empress sat 
down, Josephine had been weeping all the morning, 
and to conceal the tears which were still falling, she 
appeared at the dinner-table, wearing a head-dress 
which completely shaded the upper part of her face. 
The dinner was one merely of form. The viands 
were brought on and removed, but neither Josephine 
nor Bonaparte tasted the luxuries or uttered a word 
Once or twice their eyes met, but were instantlv 



S26 LLFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

averted, each fearing to read the look which revealed 
the spirit's struggle. Josephine saw tnat her sun-light 
had passed away, and felt that the storm would quickly 
spend its wrath upon her. 

The dinner ceremony concluded, the Emperor rose, 
and Josephine followed him mechanically into the ad- 
joining saloon. Napoleon ordered all the attendants 
to retire, and for a few moments they were alone, and 
both were silent. Josephine instinctively apprehended 
her fate, but as she watched the changing expression 
of Bonaparte's countenance, and read through these 
the struggles of his soul, a single ray of hope darted 
athwart the gloom. Would he, could he cast her 
away ? But all hope fled as she saw his features set- 
tle into a look of stern resolve, and her spirit sank 
within her, for she knew that her hour had come. 
Approaching her with trembling steps, the Emperor 
gazed at her for a moment, then took her hand and 
laid it upon his heart, as he said — " Josephine ! my 
good Josephine, you know how I have loved you ; it 
is to you, to you alone, that I owe the few moments 
of happiness I have known in the world. Josephine, 
my destiny is more powerful than my will ; my dear- 
est affections must yield to the interests of France." 
" Say no more," said the Empress ; " I expected this , 
I understand and feel for you, but the stroke is not the 
less mortal." Josephine stopped ; she tried to say 
more, but the appalling vision of her doom choked her 
utterance. She endeavored to command her feelings, 
but they were too strong to be restrained, and sobbing 



LITE OF JOSEPHTNE. 3i?7 

out, "Oh, no, you cannot surely do it! — you would not 
kill me ?" — she sunk upon the floor, overcome with the 
weight of her calamity. Napoleon, alarmed for hei 
safety, threw open the doors of the saloon and called 
for help. The court physician was instantly sum- 
moned, and committing the hapless Empress to his 
care, the author of her misery shut himself up in his 
cabinet, with feelings known only to Him, whose Om- 
niscient eye ^'searches the hearts of the children of 
men." 

Josephine remained in her swoon for three hours. 
Again and again, the Emperor came to inquire after 
her, and would hang over her couch with an expres- 
sion of the deepest anxiety. Corvisart, the physician, 
and Hortense, watched eagerly for tokens of returning 
animation ; but when the Empress opened her eyes 
again in consciousness, it was with a look so full of 
sadness, that those who stood around, almost wished 
that she could then bury her sorrows in the forgetful- 
ness of death. 

" I cannot describe," she afterwards writes, " the 
horror of my condition during that night ! Even the 
mterests which he affected to take in my sufferings, 
seemed to me additional cruelty. Oh, vion Dieu ! 
how justly had I reason to dread becoming an Em- 
press !" When she recovered, she made no effort to 
change Napoleon's resolution, but simply expressed to 
him her acquiescence. A day or two afterwards she 
wrote the following letter to the Emperor, which, as it 



52 S LIFE OF J0SEPHI]ST5. 

illustrates her peculiar feelings in relation to this 
event, we have inserted : 

" My presentiments are realized. You have pro- 
nounced the word which separates us ; the rest is only 
a formality. Such is the reward — I will not say of so 
many sacrifices, (they were sweet, because made for 
you,) — but of an attachment unbounded on my part, 
and of the most solemn oaths on yours. But the state, 
whose interests you put forward as a motive, will, it is 
said, indemnify me, by justifying you ! These inter- 
ests, however, upon which you feign to immolate me, 
are but a pretext ; your ill-dissembled ambition, as it 
has been, so it will ever continue, the guide of your 
life — a guide which has led you to victories and to a 
throne, and which now urges you to disasters and to 
ruin. 

"You speak of an alliance to contract — of an heir to 
be given to your empire — of a dynasty to be founded ! 
But with whom do you contract that alliance ? With 
the natural enemy of France — that insidious house of 
Austria — which detests our country from feeling, sys- 
tem, and necessity. Do you suppose that the hatred 
so many proofs of which have been manifested, espe- 
cially during the last fifty years, has not been trans- 
ferred from the kingdom to the empire ; and that the 
descendants of Maria Theresa, that able sovereign, 
who purchased from Madam Pompadour the fatal 
treaty of 1756, mentioned by yourself only with hor- 
ror ; think you, I ask, that her posterity, while they 
inherit her power, are not animated also by her spirit? 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 829 

I do nothing more than repeat what T have heard from 
you a thousand times ; but then your ambition h'mited 
itself to humbhng a power which now you propose to 
elevate. Beheve me, so long as you shall be master 
of Europe, Austria will be submissive to you; but 
never know reverse ! 

" As to the want of an heir, must a mother appear 
to you prejudiced in speaking of a son ? Can I — ought 
I to be silent respecting him who constitutes my whole 
joy, and on whom once centered all your hopes ? The 
adoption of Eugene was, then, a political falsehood? 
But there is one reality, at least ; the talents and vir- 
tues of my Eugene are no illusion. How many times 
have you pronounced their eulogium ! What do I say ? 
Have you not deemed them worthy the possession of a 
throne as a recompense, and often said they deserved 
more ? Alas ! France has repeated the same ; but 
what to you are the wishes of France ? 

" I do not here speak of the person destined to suc- 
ceed me, nor do you expect that I should niention her. 
Whatever I might say on the subject would be liable 
to suspicion. But one thing you will never suspect — ■ 
the vow which I form for your happiness. May that 
felicity at least recompense me for my sorrows. Ah ! 
great it will be if proportionate to them !" 

The Empress was not a woman that yielded to 
despair, though to appear cheerful, or even calm, at 
this time, cost her a struggle that shook the throne of 
reason. But she was Empress still, and while her 
moments of solitude were consumed in weeping and 



330 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

unavailing regret, she lost none of her dignity or ease 
when subjected to the curious gaze of the officers of 
the court, or the ladies who had a more immediate ac- 
cess to her person. She even went to Paris, and pre- 
sided at some of the splendid fetes given in honor of 
Napoleon's late victories ; but in all her movements, 
no one detected a step less light, an air less gay, a mien 
less commanding, than had distinguished her in the 
palmiest days of her imperial happiness. Hortense 
was at Fontainebleau when Napoleon made his an- 
nouncement to the Empress, and Eugene left Italy and 
hastened to cheer his mother by his presence, as soon 
as the first tidings of her calamity reached him. Both 
of her children desired immediately to withdraw from 
farther association with Napoleon. Eugene tendered 
his resignation as viceroy of Italy, and asked to be ex- 
cused from future service. Said he, " The son of her 
who is no longer Empress, cannot remain viceroy. I 
will follow my mother into her retreat. She must now 
find her consolation in her children." Napoleon was 
much affected at this declaration, and urged Eugene 
not to relinquish hastily his honors. He told him that 
it was necessity, and not inclination, which urged the 
sacrifice of Josephine ; that he still loved her, and lav- 
ished the same aflfections upon her children as before. 
" Should you leave me" said he, " and should I have a 
son, who would watch over the child when I am ab- 
sent? If I die, who will prove to him a father? who 
will bring him up ? who is to make a man of him ?* 
Josephine also heroically pleaded Napoleon's request. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 331 

"The Emperor," said she to Eugene, "is your bene- 
factor, your more than father, to whom you are in- 
debted for everything, and, therefore, owe a boundless 
obedience." History hardly shows a stronger instance 
of self-denying devotion than that which the Empress 
exhibited during the whole of these scenes. She be- 
came willing to sacrifice all her interests — to leave the 
proudest throne the world could then boast, and lay 
her crown at his feet who had bestowed it upon her ; 
to see all her hopes wither, and mourn over the be- 
reavement of her tenderest affections — willing to give 
up everything could she advance the glory of Napo- 
leon, This was the goal of her changeful existence. 
The trial, though severe, was met and sustained. With 
heroic fortitude she looked into the gulf before her, and 
with calmness stepped forward to meet her fate. True, 
there were moments when the heart would rise, when 
the fountains of sorrow would overflow ; but she strug- 
gled resolutely against these emotions, and before the 
day of separation arrived, she could talk of the event 
with Eugene and Hortense with, apparently, perfect 
composure. 

That "fatal day" was not to be averted. It came, 
and notwithstanding her previous fortitude, the blow 
fell with a crushing weight upon her soul. A stupor, 
as though death were fastening his arrow in her heart, 
came over her. She was the gay and lovely Josephine 
no longer. She lost the self-control which she had 
with so much conflict gained, and was again a weak, 
broken-hearted woman, helpless and comfortless ; a 



3.; 2 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

vine reaching forth in vain its tendrils for the sup- 
port whence it was rudely torn. 

The 15th of December had been announced as the 
day for the intended separation, l^apoleon had caused 
to assemble at the Tuilleries the different members of 
his own family, the Arch-chancellor of France, and all 
the high officers of state who composed the imperial 
council. It was a magnificent assembly, but^ each 
countenance wore a shade of gloom, as if some terrible 
blow were impending over the dearest prospects of 
every heart. I^apoleon first addressed them and told 
them the object of his calling them together. "The 
political interests of my monarchy," said he, " the 
wishes of my people, which have constantly guided my 
actions, require that I should leave behind me, to heirs 
of my love for my people, the throne on which Provi- 
dence has placed me. For many years I have lost all 
hopes of having children by my beloved spouse, the 
Empress Josephine; this it is which induces me to 
sacrifice the sweetest affections of my heart, to con- 
sider only the good of my subjects and desire a disso- 
lution of our marriage. Arrived at the age of forty 
years, I may indulge a reasonable hope of living long 
enough to rear, in the sj^irit of my own thoughts and 
disposition, the children with which it may please 
Providence to bless me. God knows what such a de- 
termination has cost my heart ! but there is no sacri- 
fice which is above my courage when it is proved to 
be for the best interests of France. Far from having 
any cause of complaint, I have nothing to say but in 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 333 

piaise of the attachment and tenderness of my beloved 
wile. She has embellished fifteen years of my life — 
the remembrance of them will be forever eno-raven on 
my heart ; she was crowned by my hand : she shall 
retain always that rank and the title of Empress : but, 
above all let her never doubt my feelings or regard me 
but as her best and dearest friend." 

The sweet but faltering tones of Josephine's voice 
struck a chord of sympathy in every heart, as she thus, 
with great dignity, replied — " I respond to all the senti- 
ments of the Emperor, in consenting to the dissolution 
of a marriage, which henceforth is an obstacle to the 
happiness of France, by depriving it of the blessing of 
being one day governed by the descendants of that 
great man, evidently raised up by Providence to efface 
the evils of a terrible revolution, and restore the altar, 
the throne, and social order. But his marriage will in 
no respect change the sentiments of my heart ; the 
Emperor will ever find in me his truest friend. I know 
what this act, commanded by policy and exalted inter- 
ests, has cost his heart ; but we both glory in the sacri- 
fices which we make to the good of the country. I 
feel elevated in giving the greatest proof of attachment 
and devotion that was ever given upon earth." When 
she had finished, the Empress was assisted out of the 
apartment, but the exercises of the day, from which 
she was drinking such draughts of bitterness, were not 
yet brought to a close. Again had the imperial family 
and chief nobles of the realm assembled, all in grand 
costume, to witness the final consummation. A decree 



334 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of the Senate had been obtained, proclaiming the 
divorce, and all that was now necessary, was that it 
receive the signatures and seals of the parties to be 
separated. Napoleon wore a hat whose sweeping 
plumes mostly concealed his face, but an observer 
could still read in his countenance traces of deep emo- 
tion. He stood with his arms crossed upon his breast, 
motionless and speechless. A writing apparatus of 
gold lay upon a small table in the midst of the apart- 
ment, and before it an arm-chair was placed, waiting 
the entrance of the Empress. The door opened and 
Josephine, leaning on the arm of Hortense, came slowl}' 
forward. For a moment she gave an involuntary shud- 
der, and paused while her lustrous eye ran over the 
face of every one present, as though she had now for 
the first time gained a full apprehension of her doom. 

" She stood, as stands the stricken deer 
Check'd midway in the fearful chase, 
When bursts upon his eye and ear 
The gaunt, gray robber baying near 
Between it and its resting-place — 
"While still behind, with yell and blow, 
Sweeps, like a storm, the coming foe." 

It was, however, but for a moment, and proceeding 
forward she seated herself in the chair at the table, and 
listened to the decree of the council which completed 
the separation between herself and the object of her 
warmest affections. The decree was as follows : — 

" Art. I. The marriage contracted between the Em- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIIO:. 335 

peror Napoleon and the Empress Josephine, is dis- 
solved. 

Art. II. The Empress Josephine shall preserve the 
title and rank of Empress Queen Crowned. 

Art III. Her allov^^ance is fixed at an annual pay- 
ment out of the public treasury. 

Art. IV. Whatever provision the Emperor shall 
make in favor of the Empress Josephine out of the 
funds belonging to the civil list, shall be obligatory 
upon his successors. 

Art. V. The present Senatus consultum shall be 
transmitted by a message to her imperial and royal 
majesty." 

Josephine listened to this decree, but the warm tears 
fell like rain from her quivering lids. Rising from her 
chair, she pronounced the oath of acceptance with a 
tremulous voice, and then overcome v(^ith emotions, 
sank again into her seat. Count Regnaud de St. Jean 
d'Angely placed the pen in her hand, with which she 
signed the fatal decree. The deed was done, but oh, 
with what a heaving heart did that martyr lay down 
the pen, and look up to catch one glance of love from 
the stern countenance, which, pale and motionless as 
that of a statue, was turned full upon her. With one 
convulsive sob she rose, and leaning again upon the 
arm of Hortense, left the apartment no longer the wife 
of Bonaparte. 

Eugene, who had been an agonized spectator of the 
whole scene, followed her closely, but his emotions were 
too strong for his sensitive nature to endure. He had 



336 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

hardly left the saloon before he fainted and fell com- 
pletely overcome by his anguish. 

Josephine shut herself up in her apartment, whert 
the sorrow of her soul could be unseen by human eye 
She had nerved herself for the issue, had for days beer 
steeling her heart to composure, but when the blow 
fell, she bowed like a reed before the tempest. It was 
in vain that she assumed tranquillity, the tide of feeling 
swept its barriers. At night she sought a last inter- 
view with Napoleon. He had retired to rest when, 
with eyes swollen and red from weeping, Josephine 
entered the apartment. She threw open the door but 
stopped, as she saw the Emperor, doubtful whether to 
advance or retire. A throng of emotions — delicacy, 
love — the consciousness that she had no longer any 
right there, and an unwillingness to leave without an 
adieu, struggled in her breast. Napoleon, dismissing 
his servant in waiting, rose and clasped the Empress 
in his arms, and for a few moments they were locked 
in each other's embrace, silently mingling their tears 
together. Josephine remained with him an hour, and 
then parted from the man who had won and broken 
her heart. Her sobs told what a weight of sorrow still 
rested upon her spirit as she left the apartment, but 
the bitterness of death had passed. 

And another trial was in store for her. The next 
morning she was to leave the Tuilleries, and bid adieu 
to scenes sacred to the memory of happiest years. At 
eleven o'clock an officer of the guard entered her room, 
and told her that he had orders to conduct lu-r to Mai- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 337 

maison. Silently she prepared to obey the summons, 
but paused to weep again, when she thought of what 
she had sacrificed and what she was to leave. To add 
to her sadness, the whole household, who were tenderly 
attached to her, assembled together on the stairs and 
in the vestibule through which she was to pass, anxious 
to catch one last look at their martyr mistress, " who 
carried with her into exile the hearts of all that had 
enjoyed the happiness of access to her presence." 
The expressions of their grief as they met her ears, 
were too much for the heart of Josephine. She would 
have stopped and taken them each by the hand, but 
she knew if she had hesitated now, a delirium of grief 
would lay her a helpless victim at their feet. She 
leaned upon one of her ladies, and moved on with 
mournful step, more tremulously and wearjly than the 
unfortunate, but faithful Beauharnais, had trod the 
floor of the guillotine. A carriage stood at the gates, 
an officer assisted her up the steps, and pausing to take 
a farewell gaze at the scenes of past greatness and de- 
parted happiness, she veiled a face whose two-fold ex- 
pression of resignation and sorrow, made it indescriba- 
bly touching and lovely ; and was borne away forever 
from the palace consecrated by her presence, to the 
empire of virtue and affection. 



CHAPTER X. 

Josephine's retirement and sorrow. — her residence at malmaisos 

and navarre. maria louisa. national joy at the birth of 

young napoleon. congratulations of josephine. incidents of 

LIFE AT NAVARRE. BONAPARTe's CAMPAIGN TO RUSSIA, HIS DISAS- 
TERS. THE FIDELITY OF JOSEPHINE. LETTERS. NAPOLEON ABDICATES 

THE THRONE,-7-JOSEPHINE RECEIVES THE HOMAGE AND SYMPATHY OF 

THE GREAT. HER LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. FUNERAL. SUMMARY 

OF HER CHARACTER. 

Josephine returned to Malmaison, the mansion 
which twelve years before she entered as the bride of 
Napoleon, ^d where she had passed the happiest 
hours of life, now heart-broken and desolate. She 
struggled vainly to calm the agitation of her unof- 
fending spirit, that forced the tears like rain from her 
swollen eyes, and to hide the agony written in unmis- 
takable lines upon her meek and mournful face. 
Though past middle age, she was still youthful in ap- 
pearance, and seemed the very angel of sorrow, smil- 
ing through the grief and gloom of her great calamity ; 
the more distressed, because others were sad on her 
account. Every object that she looked upon remind- 
ed her of the varied past, her present humiliation, and 
A joyless future. Her favorite walks were no more 
taken for refreshment or pleasure, but became the 
hours of weeping, while every apartment of that villa 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 339 

chosen and embellished by her ta^te. presented to her 
eye some trace of the man whose ambition crushed 
her, or gave back to her imagination an echo of his 
familiar voice. It was not simply that her divorce was 
unjust, and her pride wounded by so rudely taking 
from her brow a crown she had not sought, but her 
affections were torn from their object and bleeding — 
she was spurned from a heart that had won her own. 
and loved deeply in turn — and all to gratify an in- 
satiate thirst for power and permanent fame. None 
but those who have striven to conceal the throes of 
anguish which almost brought tears of blood, can 
sympathize with this uncomplaining sufferer during 
the months that succeeded her separation from Na- 
poleon. 

Still her residence was the resort of the distingue^ 
and often presented scenes of gayety similar to those 
of the royal palace. The drawing-rooms were ele- 
gantly furnished, and the furniture adorned with em- 
broidery wrought by Josephine and the ladies of her 
court, in previous years. The apartment Bonaparte 
had occupied v/as untouched from the time he left it, 
excepting the dusting by her own hand. She kept the 
key and guarded its contents sacredly as the relics of 
a consecrated temple. The volume of history lay 
where he closed it, w^ith a leaf turned down to the 
place of perusal — a pen was beside it, and a map of 
the world which he used to spread before him and 
mark out his course of conquest, and show his con- 
clave of confidential friends the comprehensive plans 
22 O 



340 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of action he had designed. His camp-bed, arms laid 
aside, and apparel thrown off carelessly where he 
changed it, were undisturbed. No intruder entered 
this silent room, which to Josephine was a haunted 
spot — where she could give unchecked indulgence to 
her bitter woe, and sit in a wild reverie, unbroken by 
the curious gaze or words of condolence. 

Her personal arrangements at this time were all 
becoming and simple. The only costly piece of fur- 
niture she added to her own chamber was the splen- 
did toilet service, made of gold, which she left behind 
her in the palace, but which Napoleon sent to her, 
with other valuable articles she refused to take as pri- 
vate property. The Empress desired now an unos- 
tentatious life — an exterior worthy of her rank, yet 
within this a quiet and secluded home in harmony 
with her subdued and v/ounded spirit. A letter ad- 
dressed to her superintendent, displays her taste and 
refinement of feeling. 

" Profit by my absence, dear F , and make 

haste to dismantle the pavilion of the acacias, and to 
transfer my boudoir into that of the orangery. I 
should wish the first apartment of the suite, and which 
serves for an ante-room, to be painted light green, 
with a border of lilacs. In the centre of the panels 
you will place my fine engravings from Esther, and 
under each of these a portrait of the distinguished 
generals of the Revolutions. In the centre of the 
apartment there must be a large flower-stand con- 
stantly filled with fresh flowers in their season, and in 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 841 

each angle a bust of a French philosopher. I partic- 
ularly mention that of Rousseau, which place between 
the two windows, so that the vines and foliage may- 
play around his head. This will be a natural crown, 
worthy of the author of Emile. As to my private 
cabinet, let it be colored Hght blue, with a border of 
ranunculus and polyanthus. Ten large engravings 
from the Gallery of the Musee, and twenty medallions, 
will fill up the panels. Let the casements be painted 
w^hite and green, with double fillets gilded. My piano, 
a green sofa, and two chaises longues, with corre- 
sponding covers, a secretaire, a small bureau, and a 
large toilet-glass, are articles you will not forget. In 
the centre, place a large table always covered with 
freshly gathered flowers ; and upon the mantle-shelf a 
simple pendule, two alabaster vases, and double- 
branched girandoles. Unite elegance to variety ; but 
no study, no profusion. Nothing is more opposed to 
good taste. In short, I confide to you the care of ren- 
dering this cherished spot an agreeable retreat, where 
I may meditate — sleep, it may be — but oftenest read ; 
which says sufficient to remind you of three hundred 
volumes of my small edition." 

Many persons of rank from St. Cloud frequented 
this abode of elegance, because they knew it gratified 
Napoleon, whose affection still clung to Josephine. 
From nine o'clock till midnight, all the phases of life 
at court were witnessed here, while savans were not 
only regular guests, but in the circle of the Empress' 
warmest friends. The pencil and lyre were scarcely 



342 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ever absent from her apartments, while Canova, then 
in his glory, adorned the galleries with the creations 
of his genius, or by his presence enhanced the pleasure 
of conversation in the saloons. 

Several months were spent in this manner at Mal- 
TQaison, her sadness unbroken, however brilliant the 
social aspect ; when a change of residence brought 
diversion to her thoughts, and in proportion to this 
effect, a relief to her mental gloom. The chosen spot 
was Navarre, once a kingly palace, and celebrated 
for its extensive and beautiful park, its winding and 
crystal streams, transparent lakes, and fairy lawns. 
The chateau was in the bosom of the forest of Evreux, 
whose grand old trees locked their arms around it, and 
whose shadowy aisles ran in diverging lines into the 
solemn twilight. But the Revolution had not spared 
this magnificent seat ; it was a splendid wreck. Tan- 
gled shrubbery had usurped the mounds where flowers 
had bloomed, the streams were filled with fallen 
branches, and the lakes stagnant with mouldering 
vegetation. To restore the departed grandeur and 
beauty was Josephine's new employment, which was 
a double source of delight, in furnishing entertainment 
to herself, and a means of benevolence in the labors 
of the poor peasantry. Bonaparte gave her a million 
of francs, or forty-one thousand pounds sterling, on 
her retirement, as part of her allowance, which she 
devoted entirely to this object. Soon the wilderness 
of decay " blossomed as the rose ;" the waters sparkled 
and murmured along their channels, and slumbered 



LIFE OF JOt^EPIIINE. 843 

in their boundaries fringed with foliage — the sunny 
slopes were gay with flowers, and the wide fields alive 
with the laborers, who were grateful for toil, if it pur- 
chased bread. In the centre of this miniature king- 
dom, the ex-Empress lived more secluded than before, 
and consequently more in unison 'with her taste. 
There was less parade, and fewer guests, but more 
freedom and greater intimacy of friendship. A quota- 
tion is subjoined, which gives with a minuteness sim- 
ilar to a former description, the order of domestic 
affairs. 

" At ten o'clock breakfast was served ; and it was 
the duty of the ladies and chamberlains in attendance 
to be in the saloon to receive her majesty, who was 
exact to a minute in all such arrangements. ' I have 
never,' she used to say, ' kept any one waiting for me, 
half a minute, when to be punctual depended on my- 
self. Punctuality is true politeness, especially in the 
great.' From the saloon the Empress immediately 
passed into the breakfast-room, followed by her court, 
according to their rank ; naming herself those who 
were to sit on her right and left. Both at breakfast 
and dinner the repast consisted of one course only, 
everything except the dessert being placed on the 
table at once. The Empress had five attendants be- 
hind her chair, and those who sat down with her, one 
each. Seven officials of different ranks performed the 
ordinary service of the table. After breakfast, which 
was never prolonged beyond three quarters of an hour 
the Empress, with her ladies, retired to a long room 



344 LIFE OF JOSEPHHOJ. 

named the gallery, adorned with pictures and statues, 
and commanding a beautiful prospect, where they 
continued to employ themselves in various elegant oi 
useful works, while the chamberlain in attendance 
read aloud to the party. At two, when the weather 
permitted, the ladies rode out in three open carriages, 
each with four horses. Madam d'Arberg, lady of honor, 
one of the ladies in waiting, and a distinguished visitor 
always accompanied the Empress. In this manner 
passed two hours in examining improvements, and 
freely conversing with every one who desired any- 
thing, when the party returned, and all had the dis- 
posal of their time till six o'clock, the hour of dinner. 
This repast concluded, the evening, till eleven^ was 
dedicated to relaxation, the Empress playing at back- 
gammon, piquet, or casino with the personages of her 
household, or guests whom she named for that honor, 
or conversing generally with the whole circle. 

" The younger ladies, whether members of the house- 
hold or visitors, of whom there were always several, 
often many, whose education Josephine thus comple- 
ted by retaining them near her person, usually ad- 
journed to a small saloon off the drawing-room, where 
a harp and a piano invited either to music or the dance 
under the control of some experienced matron. Some- 
times, however, this, slight restraint was forgotten, and 
the noise of the juvenile party somewhat incommoded 
their seniors in the grand apartment. On these occa- 
sions, the lady of honor, who had the charge of the 
whole establishment, and was, moreover, a strict dis- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 345 

ciplinarian, would hint the necessity of repressing the 
riot ; but Josephine always opposed this. ' Suffer, my 
dear Madann d'Arberg,' she would say, ' both them and 
us to enjoy, while we may, that delightful innocency of 
mirth which comes from the heart and goes to the 
heart.' At eleven, tea was served, and the visitors 
retired ; but the Empress generally remained for an 
hour longer, conversing with her ladies. ' These con 
versations,' says one who frequently bore a part in 
them, * afforded the best means of judging of the 
strength of her understanding, and the goodness of hei 
heart. She loved to give herself up, without reserve. 
to the pleasure of this confidential intercourse, but 
would sometimes check herself in the midst of an in- 
teresting recital, observing, 'I know that everything I 
say is reported to the Emperor, a circumstance ex- 
tremely disagreeable, not in itself so much, as in the 
consequent restraint which it imposes.' Napoleon, in 
fact, had intelligence within a few hours of everything 
which was done or said at Malmaison and Navarre. 
I know not that the member of our circle who thus 
played the spy was ever suspected, but certain it is, 
such an official existed. On this subject, we may 
remark, that the same system prevailed at St. Cloud 
and the Tuilleries ; but what was most singular, besides 
the regular police, established by Napoleon and Jose- 
phine for mutual surveillance, some one member of the 
court had gratuitously assumed the office of secret 
reporter. Within a few hours the Emperor or Em- 
press received information of whatever had occurred 



346 LIFE OF JOSEPHIKE. 

of a peculiar nature in the conduct of either, which the 
one might be deemed desirous of conceahng from the 
other. These communications came by the ordinary 
letter office attached to the palaces, were evidently by 
the same hand, and yet the writer remained unde- 
tected." 

Yet Josephine felt not a thrill of joy amid all this 
change, unless upon receiving words of love from 
Napoleon, or at the gladness of others — the words of 
inspiration were deeply her experience : " Every heart 
knows its own bitterness !" There is nothing more 
sad in life's changes, than the suffering of the innocent 
for the guilty ; the unuttered grief of a bosom another 
has robbed of hope — the slow death of one who has a 
wounded spirit. But such are the woes that make the 
pastime of half the world. The millionaire rides in a 
gilded chariot bought with the gains that made tears 
fall like rain — the man with a little brief authority 
walks unmoved upon the prostrate form of another 
whom he fears or hates — and in a thousand homes, 
woman is a secluded martyr to the vice and caprice of 
a heartless ruffian. 

To Josephine, this view of earth, after the completed 
work of desolation, which banished her from St. Cloud, 
became naturally the habitual one, as expressed in a 
letter to Bonaparte : 

" Sire, — I received, this morning, the welcome note 
which was written on the eve of your departure for 
St. Cloud, and hasten to reply to its tender and affec- 
tionate contents. These indeed, do not in themselves 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 347 

surprise me; but only as being received so early as 
fifteen days after niy establishment here ; so perfectly 
assured was I that your attachment would search out 
the means of consoling me under a separation neces- 
sary to the tranquillity of both. The thought that your 
care follows me into my retreat renders it almost 
agreeable. 

" After having known all the sweets of a love that is 
shared, and all the suffering of one that is so no longer ; 
after having exhausted all the pleasures that supreme 
power can confer, and the happiness of beholding the 
man whom I loved, enthusiastically admired, is there 
aught else, save repose, to be desired ? What illusions 
can now remain for me ? All such vanished when it 
became necessary to renounce you. Thus, the only 
ties which yet bind me to life are my sentiments for 
you, attachment for my children, the possibility of 
being able still to do some good, and above all, the 
assurance that you are happy. Do not, then, condole 
with me on my being here, distant from a court, which 
you appear to think I regret. Surrounded by those 
who are attached to me, free to follow my taste for the 
arts, I find myself better at Navarre than anywhere 
else ; for I enjoy more completely the society of the 
former, and form a thousand projects which may prove 
useful to the latter, and will embellish the scenes I 
owe to your bounty. There is much to be done here, 
for all around are discovered the traces of destruction ; 
these I would efface, that there may exist no memorial 
of those horrible inflictions which your genius has 



348 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

taught the nation almost to forget. In repairing what 
ever these ruffians of revolution labored to annihilate, 
1 shall diffiise comfort around me ; and the benedictions 
of the poor will afford me infinitely more pleasure than 
the feigned adulations of courtiers. 

" I have already told you what I think of the func- 
tionaries in this department, but have not spoken suffi- 
ciently of the respectable bishop (M. Bourlier.) Every 
day I learn some new trait, which causes me still more 
highly to esteem the man who unites the most en- 
lightened benevolence with the most amiable dis- 
positions. He shall be intrusted with distributing my 
alms-deeds in Evreux ; and as he visits the indigent 
himself, I shall be assured that my charities are proper- 
ly bestowed. 

"I cannot sufficiently thank you, sire, for the liberty 
you have permitted me of choosing the members of my 
household, all of whom contribute to the pleasure of a 
delightful society. One circumstance alone gives me 
pain, namely, the etiquette of costume, which becomes 
a little tiresome in tlie country. You fear that there 
.may be something wanting to the rank I have pre- 
served, should a slight infraction be allowed in the 
toilet of these gentlemen ; but I believe you are wrong 
in thinking they would, for one minute, forget the re- 
spect due to the woman who was your companion 
Their respect for yourself, joined to the sincere attach, 
ment they bear to me (which I cannot doubt,) secures 
me against the danger of being obliged to recall what 
it is your wish they should remember. My most hon- 



LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 349 

orable title is derived, not from having been crowned, 
but assuredly from having been chosen by you — none 
other is of value — that alone suffices for my immor- 
tality. 

" I expect Eugene. I doubly long to see him ; for 
he will doubtless bring me a new pledge of your re- 
membrance ; and I can question him at my ease of a 
thousand things concerning which I desire to be in- 
formed, but cannot inquire of you ; things, too, of 
which you ought still less to speak to me. My daugh- 
ter will come also, but later, her health not permitting 
her to travel at this season. I beseech you, sire, to 
recommend that she take care of herself; and insist 
since I am to remain here, that she do everything pos- 
sible to spare me the insupportable anxiety I feel under 
any increase of her ill health. The weakness in her 
chest alarms me beyond all expression. I desire Cor- 
visart to write me his opinion without reserve. 

" My circle is at this time somewhat more numerous 
than usual, there being several visitors, besides many 
of the inhabitants of Evreux and the environs, whom I 
see of course. I am pleased with their manners, and 
with their admiration of you, a particular in which, as 
you know, I am not easily satisfied ; in short, I find 
myself perfectly at home in the midst of my forest, and 
entreat you, sire, no longer to fancy to yourself that 
there is no living at a distance from court. Besides 
you, there is nothing there I regret, since I shall have 
my children w^ith me soon, and already enjoy the so- 
ciety of the small number of friends who remained 



350 LIFE OF JOSEPHrtTE. 

faithful to me. Do not forget your friend ; tell her 
sometimes that you preserve for her an attachment 
which constitutes the felicity of her life ; often repeat 
to her that you are happy, and be assured that for her 
the future will thus be peaceful, as the past has been 
stormy — and often sad." 

While these scenes were passing in the mansion of 
Josephine, the Emperor held councils at Paris to de- 
termine the most advantageous matrimonial alliance 
for his realm. Austria gained the honor of furnishing 
the second wife of Napoleon. Count Lauriston and 
Prince Neufchatel were sent to demand the hand of 
Maria Louisa, of the Austrian monarch. The mar- 
riage ceremony was celebrated according to the de- 
finite arrangements of Bonaparte, March, 1810. That 
it is a weakness when a great mind is unable to de- 
scend to minute and common things, was illustrated by 
contrast in this affair, planned and directed in all its 
details by the same genius that scaled the Alps, and 
gave sceptres to trembling kings. The season passed, 
and Napoleon rejoiced in the prospect of an heir to his 
diadem and name. After a visit he made during this 
period at Navarre, Josephine remarked to a friend: — 

" You cannot conceive, my friend, all the torments 
I have endured since that fatal day : I cannot think 
how I survived it. You can form no conception of 
the misery it is to me to see everywhere description 
of fetes. And the first time he came to see me after 
his marriage, oh ! what a meeting was that ! what tears 
I shed ! The days on which he comes are days of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 351 

torture to me, for he has no delicacv. How cruel of 
him to speak to me about his expected heir ! you may 
suppose how distressing all this is to me. Better far 
to be exiled a thousand leagues from hence ! How- 
ever, some few friends still continue faithful to me, 
and that is now my only consolation in the few mo- 
ments I am able to admit of it." 

And yet this amiable, grieving exile, was among the 
first to express her interest on the father's account, 
when the birth of the King of Rome was announced. 
This event occurred March 26th, 1811, after imminent 
danger in regard to the fate of both the queen and her 
son. It was during this crisis. Napoleon, with the 
calm accents of complete self-command, said to Du- 
bois, the attending physician, " Treat my wife as you 
would a shop-keeper's in the Rue St. Denis." And 
when the question arose which should be sacrificed, if 
one must die, mother or child, he exclaimed, " Save 
my wife ! the rest affects me little." It is difficult 
after all, to estimate the motive in the direction to Du- 
bois. For love to Maria Louisa alone, could not have 
governed him ; greater affection had been violated to 
obtain the gift he was likely to lose — but doubtless he 
preferred the probability of another heir to the death 
of a queen and the difficult care of a motherless in- 
fant 

The joy which succeeded the intensely painful sus- 
pense of the people, when the thunder of cannon her- 
alded the presence of a prince in the palace of St. 
Cloud, was .a wild burst of enthusiasm, that swept 



v552 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Storm-like over an empire whose population was fifty- 
seven millions. Unconscious heir of prospective 
g]ory! — the object of national idolatry, the treasure 
of a monarch whose wealth was kingdoms, and the 
occasion of solicitude to the sovereigns of half the 
world ! 

Josephine's household were at a magnificent enter- 
tainment given by the prefect, when the tidings came 
to him, whose office required his aid in extending the 
public jubilee. The guests dispersed, and among those 
who returned to the saloon of Josephine, where she 
was alone with the Princess d'Arberg, was Madam De- 
crest, who touchingly said — " I confess that my bound- 
less affection for Josephine caused me violent sorrow, 
when I thought that she who occupied her place was 
now completely happy. Knowing as yet but imper- 
fectly the grandeur of soul which characterized the 
Empress, her entire denial of self, and absolute devo- 
tion to the happiness of the Emperor, I imagined there 
must still remain in her so much of the woman as 
would excite bitter regret at not having been the moth- 
er of a son so ardently desired. I judged like a friv- 
olous bemg of the gay world, who had never known 
cares beyond those of a ball. 

"On arriving at the palace, where the first comers 
had spread the news, I learned how to appreciate one 
who had so long been the cherished companion, often 
the counsellor, and always the true friend of Napoleon. 
1 beheld every face beaming with joy, and Josephine's 
m©re radiant than any, for all but reflected her sathfac- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIITE. 353 

tion. No sooner had the party from the carriage en- 
tered the saloon, than she eagerly enquired what de- 
tails we had learned. ' I do regret,' she continued to 
repeat, ' being so far from Paris ; at Malmaison I could 
have had information every half hour ! I greatly re- 
joice that the painful sacrifice which I made for France 
is likely to be useful, and that her future destiny is now 
secure. How happy the Emperor must be ! One thing 
alone makes me sad ; namely, not having been informed 
of that happiness by himself: but then he has so many 
orders to give, so many congratulations to receive. 
Young ladies, we must do here as elsewhere ; there 
must be a fete to solemnize the accomplishment of so 
many vows. I will give you a ball. And, as the sa- 
loons are small, I will have the hall of the guards floored 
above the marble; for the whole city of Evreux must 
come to rejoice with us : I can never have too many 
people on this occasion. Make your preparations ; get 
ready some of my jewels ; I must not, in the present 
case, continue to receive my visitors in a bonnet de 
nuit. As for you, gentlemen, I require, for this once, 
your grand costume.' Her majesty's pleasant counte- 
nance was, if possible, more than usually open and 
frank in its expression while she spoke, and never, in 
my opinion, did she show herself more worthy of the 
'''igh fortunes she had enjoyed." 

Napoleon was too much absorbed with the consum- 
'kiation of his ardent wishes, to think for a time of !• - 
repudiated wife, who tempered the torture of regret 
with sincere rejoicing, on the fruition of his most daz- 



354 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

zling hopes. Upon important occasions, he usually 
sent a special messenger to Navarre to inform Jose- 
phine^ of passing events; but her intelligence of the 
royal birth had come only through the prefect, and dem- 
onstrations of gladness that filled the heavens with 
the continual roar of artillery, and spread music and 
dancing over the land. She v^ras grieved by this neg- 
lect, and addressed a note to the Emperor, which 
shows a confidence in his regard, and a magnanimity 
of soul, that none can contemplate without the admi- 
ration and interest of a personal esteem. 

"Navarre, March 20-21, 1811. 

" Sire, — Amid the numerous felicitations which you 
receive from every corner of Europe, from all the cities 
of France, and from each regiment of your army, can 
the feeble voice of a woman reach your ear, and will 
you deign to listen to her who so often consoled your 
sorrows and sweetened your pains, now that she speaks 
to you only of that happiness in which all your wishes 
are fulfilled ? Having ceased to be your wife, dare I 
felicitate you on becoming a father? Yes, sire, with- 
out hesitation, for my soul renders justice to yours, in 
like manner as you know mine ; I can conceive every 
emotion you must experience, as you divine all that 1 
feel at this moment; and, though separated, we are 
united by that sympathy which survives all events. 

*' I should have desired to learn the birth of the King 
of Rome from yourself, and not from the sound of the 
cannon of Evreux, or the courier of the prefect; I 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 355 

know, however, that in preference to all, your first at- 
tentions are due to the public authorities of the state, 
to the foreign ministers, to your family, and especially 
to the fortunate Princess who has realized your dearest 
hopes. She cannot be more tenderly devoted to you 
than I ; but she has been enabled to contribute more 
towards your happiness, by securing that of France. 
She has then a right to your first feelings, to all your 
cares ; and I, who was but your companion in times 
of difficulty — I cannot ask more than a place in your 
aflfection, far removed from that occupied by the Em- 
press Maria Louisa. Not till you have ceased to watch 
by her bed, not till you are weary of embracing your 
son, will you take the pen to converse with your best 
friend. I will wait. 

" Meanwhile, it is not possible for me to delay tell- 
mg you, that more than any one in the world do I re- 
joice in your joy ; and you doubt not my sincerity, 
when I here say, that, far from feeling affliction at a 
sacrifice necessary to the repose of all, I congratulate 
myself on having made it, since I now suffer alone. 
But I am wrong — I do not suffer, while you are happy ; 
and have but one regret, in not having yet done enough 
to prove to you how dear you were to me. I have no 
account of the health of the Empress ; I dare to depend 
upon you, sire, so far as to hope that I shall have cir- 
cumstantial details of the great event which assures 
the perpetuity of the name you have so nobly illus- 
trated. Eugene and Hortense will write me, impart- 
ing their own satisfaction ; but it is from you that I 



356 LIFE OF JOSEPHrtTE. 

desire to know if your child be well — if he resemble 
you — if I shall one day be permitted to see him ; in 
short, I expect from you unlimited confidence, and 
upon such I have some claims, in consideration, sire, 
of the boundless attachment I shall cherish for you 
while life remains." 

The next day Eugene arrived and gave his mother 
the particulars she desired ; and at eleven o'clock the 
same evening, a page was formally announced bearing 
a message direct from St. Cloud to Josephine. She 
had not forgotten the youthful member of her former 
court, and with native kindness relieved his embarrass- 
ment while searching for the note he had too carefully 
concealed about his person, by inquiring familiarly 
after his friends and his own success. But the instant 
her hand felt the precious billet, she vanished to her 
private apartment, and for half an hour sprinkled the 
blotted sheet with tears. Eugene had followed her, 
and when they returned, gave evidence that Josephine 
had not wept alone. The scene upon rejoining the 
company, is thus described by a friend. 

" We dared not question the Empress ; but observ- 
ing our curiosity, she had the condescension to gratify 
us with a sight of the letter ; it consisted of about ten 
or twelve lines, traced on one page, and was, as usual, 
covered with blots. I do not exactly remember the 
commencement, but the conclusion was, word for 
word, — ' This infant in concert with our Eugene, will 
constitute my happiness and that of France.' ' Is it 
possible,' remarked the Empress, *to be more amiable? 



LIFE OP JOSEPHno:. 357 

or could anything be better calculated to soothe what- 
ever might be painful in my thoughts at this moment, 
did I not so sincerely love the Emperor? This uni- 
ting of my son with his own is indeed worthy of him, 
who, when he wills, is the most delightful of men. 
This it is which has so much moved me.' Calling, 
then, for the messenger, Josephine said, 'For the Em- 
peror and for yourself — giving the page a letter, and 
a small morocco case, containing a diamond brooch, 
value five thousand francs (two hundred guineas.) 
This, indeed, was the present intended for the messen- 
ger, should the child be a girl, and one of twelve 
thousand francs for a boy ; but, with her usual good 
taste, she made this alteration, fearing the people 
might talk rather of her munificence than satisfac- 
tion. Exactly in the same style of splendid propri- 
ety was given the entertainment which she had 
promised to her little court." 

So disinterested was this sorrowful spirit, that she 
sought a friendly intercourse and correspondence with 
Maria Louisa. Though Bonaparte favored cordially 
the proposal, the Queen was a stranger to that eleva- 
tion of sentiment which suggested it, and jealous of 
associations involving her unrivalled sovereignty of 
the Emperor's heart, if not of the realm he ruled 
We are, at every new disclosure of the principles of 
action that animated the heroine of this history, in 
duced to pause and wonder, while we eulogize the un- 
paralleled nobility of nature, at the symmetry and spot 
less purity of a character matured under influences 



35 R LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

generally corrupt, at least inadequate to the sublime 
development she exhibited. This reflection was awak- 
ened here by the perusal of a letter to the Queen on 
the subject of more intimacy in social life. 

" Madam, — While you were only the second spouse 
of the Emperor, I deemed it becoming to maintain 
silence towards your majesty ; that reserve, I think, 
may be laid aside, now that you are become the 
mother of an heir to the empire. You might have 
had some ditficulty in crediting the sincerity of her 
whom, perhaps, you regarded as a rival ; you will 
give faith to the felicitations of a French woman, for 
you have bestowed a son upon France. Your amia- 
bleness and sweetness of disposition have gained you 
the heart of the Emperor ; your benevolence merits 
the blessings of the unfortunate, the birth of a son 
claims the benedictions of all France How amiable 
a people — how feeling — how deserving of admiration 
are the French! To use an expression which paints 
them exactly — ' they love to love !' Oh ! how delight- 
ful, then, to be loved by them ! It is upon this facility 
and, at the same time, steadiness of affection, that the 
partisans of their ancient kings have so long rested 
their expectations ; and here their trust is not without 
reason. Whatever may happen, the name of Henry 
IV., for instance, will always be reverenced. It must 
be confessed, however, that the Revolution, without 
corrupting the heart, has greatly extended the intelli- 
gence, and rendered the spirits of men more exacting 
Under our kings, they were satisfied with repose — now 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 859 

they demand glory. These, madam, are the two bless- 
ings, the foretaste of which you have been called to 
give to France. She will enjoy them in perfection 
under your son, if to the manly virtues of his sire he 
join those of his august mother, by which they may 
be tempered." 

In this generous endeavor sne was unsuccessful, 
ahhough by the kindness of Napoleon permitted fre- 
quently to see his son. These visits were unknown 
to Maria Louisa, and were made at a royal pavilion 
near Paris, in the presence of the Emperor, and Madam 
Montesquieu, governess of the child. Josephine, du- 
ring the interviews, could seldom restrain her emo- 
tions. With Bonaparte by her^side, and the innocent 
boy for whose sake she was repudiated, in her arms, 
it is not strange that she showered upon his fair fore- 
head the dew of feeling too deep for utterance. Her 
smile of affection upon the father and child, would 
break through her grief, like the bow of summer amid 
the sobbings of the passing storm. In uncomplaining 
resignation, she caressed the baby-king, and clasped 
him to her bosom as though he were her own, till Na- 
poleon would brush away a tear from his own calm 
face, and gaze for a moment with former tenderness 
on the lovely being, whose countenance, so radiant 
with expression, made the '-'burial places of memory 
give up their dead," and glowed Hke living fire on his 
conscience. At length such occasions more seldom 
recurred, until from the difficulty of concealment, they 
ceased entirely. It was removing a source of melan- 



360 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

choly joy from Josephine, closing the parted clouds of 
a tempest again above her drooping head, and leav- 
ing her only the rays of comfort that pierced the dark- 
ness, when a note or verbal message from the Empe- 
ror reached IN^avarre. 

In a letter written about this time, she alludes to 
the privileges she had enjoyed, and the necessity of 
its sacrifice. 

^'Assuredly, sire, it was not mere curiosity which 
led me to desire to meet the King of Home ; I wished 
to examine his countenance — to hear the sound of his 
voice, so like your own — to behold you caress a son on 
whom centre so many hopes — and to repay him the 
tenderness which you lavished on my own Eugene. 
When you recall how dearly you loved mine, you will 
not be surprised at my affection for the son of another, 
since he is yours likewise, nor deem either false or ex- 
aggerated, sentiments which you have so fully expe- 
rienced in your own heart. The moment I saw you 
enter, leading the young ISTapoleon in your hand, was 
unquestionably one of the happiest of my life. It 
effaced for a time the recollection of all that had pre- 
ceded ; for never have I received from you a more 
touching mark of affection. It is more : it is one of 
esteem — of sincere attachment. Still, I am perfectly 
sensible, sire, that those meetings which afford me so 
much pleasure cannot be frequently renewed ; and I 
must not so far intrude on your compliance as to put 
it often under contribution. Let this sacrifice to your 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIKB. 361 

domestic tranquillity be one proof more of my desire 
to see you happy." 

An interesting story is told of the two Empresses in 
connection with the King of Rome, which, whether 
*strictly authentic or not, illustrates their character. 
Redoute, a distinguished artist, and frequent visitor 
at the saloons of Navarre, was one morning on his way 
to the chateau with paintings of flowers, when he be- 
held in the garden of the Tuilleries a hurrying multi- 
tude, and heard the shouts of " The King of Rome ! 
The Empress !" By the side of Maria Louisa, was a 
miniature carriage drawn by four snow-white goats. 
He paused to gaze on the novel scene, when his eye fell 
upon a pale young mother near him, whose tears from 
their sunken orbs dropped freely on the rosy cheeks 
of her child. He caught these broken accents of grief: — ■ 

" My poor little one ! — my darling ! you have no 
carriage, my angel ; no playthings — no toys of any 
kind. For him abundance, pleasure, every joy of his 
age, for thee, desolation, suffering, poverty, hunger! 
What is he that he should be happier than you, dar- 
ling ? Both of you born the same day, the same hour ! 
I as young as his mother, and loving you as fondly as 
she loves him. But you have now no father, my poor 
babe ; you have no father !"- 

The artist forgot the rushing crowd, and the pageant 
they were pursuing, and kindly addressed the poor 
woman. 

" Madam, why do you not make known your situ- 
ation to the Empress ?" • 



362 LIS'E OF JOSEPHINE. 

" To what purpose, sir ? Small compassion have 
the great ones of this world." 

" But why not make the attempt ? " 

" I have done so, sir, already. I wrote to the Em- 
press, and told her that my son was born the same day, 
the same hour with the King of Eome. I told her, 
alas ! that he has no father, that my strength is faihng 
that we are utterly destitute. But the Empress has 
not deigned to answer." 

" You will have an answer, rest assured. Perhaps 
the memorial has not been yet placed before her maj- 
esty. Give me your address, I beg of you ?" 

Upon meeting Josephine, who was surprised at the 
delay in his appointed call, he apologized with a rela- 
tion of these incidents by the way. She replied — 

•' I see the great artist, as always happens, has a feel- 
ing heart. If Napoleon did but know the destitution 
of this child, born the same day, the same hour with his 
son ! Be with me to-morrow morning at nine o'clock; 
we will together visit this poor creature." 

At the time appointed, Redoute and Josephine were 
threading a narrow and dismal alley, leading to the 
widow's abode, a miserable garret in the fifth story of 
a dark old structure. Ascending the damp stair-way, 
the painter soon introduced his fair companion to the 
ghastly wreck of a lovely woman, and her laughing 
boy. Josephine caressing the unconscious orphan, 
learned from the mother, the mournful history of her 
bereavement and poverty. Then rising, she placed in 
the hand of the child a purse, and with the tremulous 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIJ«rE. 363 

tones of deep feeling, assured the widow that brighter 
days were before her — and promising a physician, and 
also a removal on the morrow to a cheerful dwellinor 
\t this moment the door opened, and a lady elegantly 
attired, entered with an escort, and calmly surveyed 
the apartment, as though her presence were a miracle 
of benevolent condescension. It was Maria Louisa, 
who had with unwonted interest in the poor, answered 
at her leisure the appeal of the sufferer. She did not 
recognize her rival in the love of the Emperor, having 
carefully avoided intercourse with her ; while Redoute 
was studying with an artist's earnestness and observant 
eye, the faces of each — the one expressing the pride of 
rank and consciousness of power, the other the sweet- 
ness of benignity itself, excepting a shadow of disdain 
for the display of greatness, that passed over her sad 
yet radiant features. When the Empress disclosed the 
design of her visit, Josephine spoke — " Your intention 
is most laudable, doubtless, madam, but you are rather 
late ; the young mother and the child are under my 
protection." Maria haughtily replied, " I have some 
reason to believe that my patronage will be a little 
more advantageous." After a spirited conversation in 
tvhich the artist and chamberlain joined to defend the 
illustrious philanthropists, Josephine withdrew. For 
wo years she protected and maintained the widow and 
ler son — and when both she and that mother were 
dead, the homeless Charles, deserted by relatives, be- 
came the protege of the struggling and gifted Redoute. 

Napoleon when in exile, said of his wives, that he 

' P 



364 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Lad been much attached to them both — adding, " The 
one was the votary of art and the graces ; the other 
was all innocence and simple nature ; and each, he ob- 
served, had a very high degree of merit. The first, in 
no moment of her life, ever assumed a position or at- 
titude that was not pleasing or captivating ; it was im- 
possible to take her by surprise, or to make her feel the' 
least inconvenience. She employed every resource of 
art to heighten natural attractions, but with such in- 
genuity as to render every trace of allurement imper- 
ceptible. The other, on the contrary, never suspected 
that anything was to be gained by innocent artifice. 
The one was always somewhat short of the truth of 
nature ; the other was altogether frank and open, and 
was a stranger to subterfuge. The first never asked 
her husband for anything, but she was in debt to every 
one ; the second freely asked whenever she wanted, 
which, however, very seldom happened, and she never 
thought of receiving anything without immediately 
paying for it. Both were amiable and gentle in dis- 
position, and strongly attached to their husband." 

Josephine's benevolence never shone more purely 
than at Navarre. Her income was 125,000/. a year, 
of which four or five thousand were devoted to chari- 
table uses. The suffering were relieved — the home- 
less found refuge — and we have seen how the widow 
and the fatherless were visited in their afliiction. In 
addition to this, she avoided at all times a tone of voice 
or a look, which might fling a shadow upon the path of 
the humblest pilgrim to the goal of mortality. When 



LIFE OF JOSEPHDfE. 365 

needful to rebuke an attendant for delinquency, it was 
simply by silence — withholding any expression of 
favor, which never failed to restore the offender peni- 
tently to duty. If a member of her court was sick, 
she was the first to enter the chamber, and as often as 
the strength of returning health would allow, appointed 
the meetings of her little circle in the apartment of the 
invalid, to cheer with their entertainment the heart 
weary of confinement. She received and deserved 
the title of " the excellent Josephine," exhibiting in the 
minutest details of daily life, the same gentleness, and 
magnanimity, on great occasions displayed more stri- 
kingly to the multitude. She thus writes to a friend in 
relation to her joining the group, whose attachment 
lent a charm to existence, which misfortune had so 
bereft of its clustering delights. 

" You will find with me the gentlest and most 
agreeable society. Some of my ladies are kind and 
good; they have not always been happy, and will 
therefore sympathize in your melancholy without for- 
cing you to be gay ; others will beguile you of your 
sorrows by the charms of their wit ; and with the 
gentlemen of my court you may converse on those 
acquirements which you have cultivated with pleasure 
and success. Some young persons in w^hom I am 
interested will study along w^ith your amiable daughter ; 
she will increase their knowledge by communicating 
her own, and will receive in return lessons in music 
and accomplishments not otherwise accessible in the 
chateau of her deceased father. Thus, many advan- 



'^6(3 LIFE OF JOSEPHESTE. 

tages concur to decide you to come and live with me ; 
and I venture to believe that your affection will reckon 
among these inducements the certainty of thus con- 
tributing to render my retreat more pleasing. Hitherto, 
I have been surrounded by all imaginable proofs of 
regard. I have received visits from the whole of 
Napoleon's court. It is known that he desires I should 
always be treated as Empress ; and besides, people 
, wish to see with their own eyes how I support my 
new situation. When they shall have been able to say 
several times before Napoleon that they have been at 
Malmaison, and shall have fully examined my counte- 
nance, and criticized my manners, they will cease to 
come eight leagues to visit a person who can no longer 
do anything for them, and I shall be left alone with 
my true friends, of whom / will that you augment the 
number. These words / will have escaped me ; it is 
the consequence of a habit which I shall correct ; but 
one of my habits I shall never resign-— that of loving 
you faithfully. Come, and believe in the attachment 
^* Josephine." 

The continued confidence that iJ^Tapoleon reposed in 
Josephine, and her devotion in return, present his 
character in a sublime aspect, however intense our 
indignation at the deed of separation. He would have 
torn his own frame with instruments of torture if 
France and glory required it— and none but himself 
knew the agonies of remorse that brought hours of 
wakefulness to his couch — and the bitter memories 
that sometimes thronged his spirit in moments of soli- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 367 

tude. The gentle Josephine felt that he must suffei 
thus, and wept over it, scarcely less frequently than 
over the hopes he had sternly trodden in the dust. 
The mutual regard referred to, is finely expressed in a 
letter written in reply to a note of inquiry after hei 
health, during a slight illness. 

" Sire, — The indisposition which has given you 
some uneasiness on my account has left no bad effects, 
and I am almost tempted to bless the dispensation, as 
the cause of my receiving a billet, which proves you 
continue always to cherish the same interest in my 
well-being. This certainty of your attachment will 
contribute to re-establish a health which is already 
better. What you say respecting your family disputes 
afflicts mo so much the more that I cannot, as formerly, 
endeavor to reconcile them. I have laid down as a 
law nevei to meddle with what concerns your sisters ; 
and I believe, if I were to fail in this self-imposed rule 
of conduct, my representations would be ill received. 
I have never been loved by these personages, who 
mterest me deeply, since your happiness depends in 
part upon their conduct. Envy and jealousy, unfor- 
tunately, were the sentiments I inspired ; and now thai 
I am deprived of a power, the cause of their umbrage, 
resentment still remains at having been so long obUged 
to conceal their jealousy. I believe you exaggerate 
their faults towards you, a necessary consequence of 
the affection you bear them. They love you sincerely, 
but not with that exaltation of sentiment you require 
in everything ; and they feel not, therefore, the chagrip 



368 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

they may cause you. The Queen of Naples, for in- 
stance, was forced, not only to receive the Princess of 
Wales, while travelling through her states, but to observe 
all the honors due to that title. You would have 
blamed her had she acted otherwise ; for her royal 
highness was unfortunate — a claim more urgent than 
even illustrious birth. Why, then, impute it as a crime 
to have received an afflicted woman, accused, perhaps, 
through injustice and calumny ? Separated from a 
husband and from a child who loved her, had she not 
whereof to complain ? and why, then, deny her the sad 
consolation of an honorable hospitality ? Be assured, 
therefore, that in all this there was nothing of political 
contrivance, no intention to brave you. Your sister 
of Naples may be ambitious, but she overflows with 
tenderness for you, and is too proud of the title of your 
sister ever to do anything which might render her un- 
worthy thereof. As to the Princess Pauline, she is a 
pretty child, whom all of us have taken a pleasure in 
spoiling ; we need not, then, be surprised or offended at 
her absurdities. With her, indulgence always succeeds 
better than a severity, which we are forced to lay 
aside whenever we look upon her ravishing beauty. 
Do not chide her, then ; recall her gently, and she will 
reform. Joseph is obliged to manage the Spaniards, a 
circumstance which fully explains the kind of opposi- 
tion in which you are often placed. Time will bring 
back union between you, by consolidating a power 
opposed by many obstacles in this its commencement. 
When you are better satisfied with your family, do not 



LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSrE. dQi 

fail to inform me ; none, sire, can more rejoice in the 
good understanding that ought to prevail there. Adieu. 
Calm your head — allow your heart to act ; there I hold 
a place which I desire to maintain, and will eternally 
merit by an affection without limits." 

These annals of private intercourse bring the life 
of Josephine to 1812, a year of mighty events to Eu- 
rope and Napoleon. Determined to avenge the in- 
juries of Russia, and extend his conquests, he put his 
affairs in order for an enterprise which attracted the 
attention of the civilized world. Disasters were oc- 
curring in Spain — and Wellington was on his way to 
Madrid ; but these were now the pastime of war, and 
almost forgotten in the hurry of preparation for a 
campaign which filled the timid with alarm, and made 
heroes pause in astonishment before the gigantic plan 
of a single confident and majestic mind. Defeated in 
the design of forming an alliance with Turkey and 
Sweden, the only powers of Europe not in some way 
bound to his throne, he was yet undismayed, the only 
calm spirit that surveyed the vast and perilous field of 
conflict, spreading from the Niemen to the summits of 
eternal snow. Before his departure for Russia, he 
visited Josephine. She received him cordially, and 
with her nice sense of propriety, gave him a seat in 
the garden, where the courtiers could see, but not hear 
them during the long and earnest conversation that 
followed. She spoke of his campaign with deep con- 
cern, and would have persuaded him to abandon an 
expedition so fraught with danger. She said, " You 



370 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



are playing for your crown, for the existence of your 
dynasty and the lives of my children." 

But the conqueror kissing her hand, entered his 
carriage, and was again in the tide of preparation 
w^hich bore men and munitions of war toward the 
plains blackened by the legions of his foe. Maria 
Louisa accompanied him to Dresden to see her father 
while he hastened to the banks of the Niemen. The 
mighty host marched forward, passed the Dnieper, 
gained the heights of Smolensk, and over silent re- 
doubts, entered upon a pavement of ghastly corpses, 
the evacuated and ruined city. Never was there a 
more heroic and desolate march than that of the 
French battalions towards the throne of the Autocrat. 
Under the walls of Moscow a fierce struggle covered 
the ground with the dead, and as victory sent the 
shout of the living along the lines, the fog which had 
wrapped the city rolled away, and the sun poured his 
glory on the domes of the doomed metropolis. Napo- 
leon exclaimed, " Soldiers, 'tis the sun of Austerlitz !" 
—and pressed on to the prize. Even then he might 
have seen the flame of Russia's offering for rescue, 
and the lurid sign of his own terrible calamity. 

That awful conflagration swept away the hopes of 
an army, leaving the brave legions unsheltered amid 
the rigors of a northern winter. Every heart quailed 
at the prospect, but that of the unconquerable Napo- 
leon. Rumors had spread in Paris that he was slain ; 
and the fanatic Mallet conceived the project of over- 
throwing the Empire and restoring in some shape the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 371 

Republic. The stroke was given the very day Bona- 
parte turned his bacK on the smoking ruins of Mos 
cow, and arriving at Smolensk, received intelHgence 
of the treason. Though the conspiracy was a signal 
failure, and the insane leader with fourteen associates 
were executed, the Emperor was in a rage, and ex- 
claimed to General Rapp : — 

" Is it come to this, then — is my power so insecure 
as to be endangered by a single individual, and he a 
prisoner? It would seem that my crown sits but 
loosely on my head, if, in my own capital, the bold 
stroke of three adventurers can shake it. Rapp, mis- 
fortune never comes alone; tliis is an appropriate 
finish to what is passing here. I cannot be every- 
where, but I must go back to Paris ; my presence 
there is indispensable to reanimate public opinion. I 
must have men and money ; great successes and great 
victories will repair all ; I must set off." 

Giving the command of his thinned and disheart- 
ened ranks to the experienced generals, among whom 
was Eugene, for whose fate a fond and noble mother 
was deeply anxious, he pressed on to the capital of 
a nation in mourning 

" For the unretuming brave." 

To him it was an entrance strangely in contrast with 

former advents upon the theatre of public homage. 

Hitherto, the flying courier, followed by the roar of 

artillery, had proclaimed to the waiting millions, the 

annihilation of armies and the glory of France. IN'ow 
P* 24 



3 72 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

he left the struggling remnants of a magnificent host 
among the blood-stained snows of a cheerless waste 
and sadly, yet unyieldingly came again to take his 
sceptre, sullied with the touch of conspiracy. 

Intelligence of all these movements was conveyed to 
Josephine at Malmaison. She still watched with the 
tenderest solicitude over Napoleon's fate, and heard 
with deep sadness of his disastrous Russian campaign. 
An ordinary woman might have had a selfish delight 
in the reflection that her own repudiation was the first 
step in his descending career ; but this was far from 
the thoughts of Josephine. If her life would have con- 
tributed to his prosperity or happiness, she was ready 
for the sacrifice. She would gladly have hastened to 
meet him on his return to Paris, and bound up his 
wounded spirit, with her sympathy and love. She 
heard indeed of the congratulations and addresses of 
the public functionaries of Paris upon his return— and 
that the cities of Rome, Florence, Milan, Turin, Ham- 
burgh, Amsterdam, and Mayence, had sent him the as- 
surance that his presence alone was necessary to re- 
move the disquietude that existed in the Empire, but 
she was also aware that sources of fearful trouble to 
the Emperor, were arising in the capital and in various 
parts of France. She understood thoroughly the 
schemes of the Philadelphes,* and was apprised of that 
daring treason, headed by one of their number, Gen- 
eral Mallet, which affected her deeply, for it indicated 

* A secret association in the army, formed for the purpose of over- 
throwing th^ Imperial power. 



LTFE OF JOSEPHINE. 373 

feeling against the Emperor, more widely extended 
than apparent upon the surface of society. In these 
tidings her quick ear caught the first moaning of the 
tempest which would wreck his splendid fortunes. 

The campaign of Saxony, upon which Napoleon 
now entered, completed his downfall. He commenced 
it with high anticipations of success, and though at the 
outset a few great victories attested his genius, he soon 
began to feel the mortification of repeated defeats. 
His armies were no longer the invincible host, which 
had hitherto never failed him in the hour of trial. 

Toward the spring of 1814, when the allies had in- 
vaded more than one third of France, and Napoleon s 
throne was trembling on the undulations of an earth- 
quake, whose march his prophetic vision discerned, 
but which he could not avert ; he made his last visit 
to the home of Josephine. The bright sun was sink- 
ing behind the purple hills, and Malmaison was peace- 
ful as though the plains and slopes of vine-clad France 
were untrodden by contending armies, and unreddened 
by the blood of slaughter, when, with distressful air, 
the Emperor entered the retreat of her who clung to 
his side with intenser affection arnid the gloom of dark 
ening disaster. They wept together, and while he 
looked upon her sad and loving face he said — " Ah ! I 
have been as fortunate as was ever man on the face 
of the earth ; but to-day, now when a storm is gather- 
ing over my head, I have not, O Josephine, in the wide 
world, any but you upon whom I can repose." 

The Jacobins were disposed to offer their influence 



374 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

to save the "child of destiny," but demanded in return, 
entire control of the press, and permission to advocate 
freely the principles of the revolutionary period. His 
words on the subject are forceful, and indicate regard 
for enlightened freedom not wholly extinguished by 
absolute rule, and disclose some filial emotion in this 
offspring of Liberty, " to whom he owed everything, 
though he had disowned his mother, and was about to 
fall." He said indignantly — "This is too much ! In 
battle I shall have a chance of deliverance ; but I shall 
have none with these furious blockheads. There can 
be nothing in common between the demagogic princi- 
ples of ninety-three, and the monarchy ; between clubs 
of madmen and a regular ministry ; between revolu- 
tionary tribunals and established laws. If my fall is 
decreed, I will not at least bequeath France to the 
revolutionists from whom I have delivered her." 

When about leaving Paris to make the last desper- 
ate onset upon his exulting foe, he summoned the Na- 
tional Guard to the Tuilleries, and while the large and 
brilliant assembly were waiting in the deepest silence, 
Napoleon entered the hall, leading by the hand the son 
of his hopes, not yet three years old. With a calm but 
melancholy mien, he surveyed the impressive scene, 
then with his usual clear and sonorous voice, delivered 
a speech, from which the following is a quotation : — 

" Gentlemen, and Officers of he National Guard ! I 
am happy to see you around me. This night I set out 
to take the command of the army. On quitting the 
capital, I confidently leave behind me my wife, and my 



LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 375 

son, in whom so many hopes are centered. Under ycur 
faithful guard I leave all that, next to France, 1 hold 
dear. To your care they are intrusted." 

Bonaparte threw himself into the overwhelming tide 
of allied forces, and struggled nobly to regain the foun- 
dation of sovereignty, sliding so rapidly from beneath 
his feet. He did not, however, forget Josephine ; but 
as often as communication was possible, sent letters 
breathing the warmest affection ; while hers in return 
were hailed with delight that brooked no delay in pe- 
rusal, even amid the very tumult of battle. At length 
the closing scenes in the terrible tragedy, of which a 
hero and king was the victim, interrupted the cor- 
respondence. She could almost behold the field of 
strife, and hear the discordant roar of combat. 

One day, while sitting in a summer-house, looking 
toward Paris, she saw a Sister of Charity near her case- 
ment, and inquired respecting her mission of mercy, 
The nun told her that the sisterhood had many wounded 
officers under their care, and no sheets with which to 
bind the bleeding limbs, and that she was on her way 
to the capital for a supply. The Empress immediately 
took the purchase into her own hands, and the saloons 
of Malmaison became alive with the activity of fair 
women preparing lint and bandages for the suffering. 

Josephine was tortured with suspense, and when she 
heard that the royal family were flying to Blois, before 
the advancing invaders, in her excitement and despair 
she determined to depart for Navarre. On her way 
thither, discovering a detachment of troops in the dis- 



376 LIFE OF JOSEPHIISTE. 

tance, who were French hussars, she mistook them for 
the terrible Cossacks, who had descended Hke demons 
upon the arena of universal war. Beneath the peltings 
of the storm, she fled across the fields ; and when the 
illusion was dispelled, entering her carriage, she silentl}? 
pursued her journey, and awakening as from a trance 
upon their arrival at the palace, it is related, exclaimed, 
" Surely, surely, Bonaparte is ignorant of what is pass- 
ing within sight of the gates of Paris; or if he knows, 
how cruel the thoughts that must now agitate his breast ! 
Oh ! if he had listened to me !" 

On the 31st of March, 1814, the allies entered Paris 
During the fierce struggle beneath its walls upon the 
preceding day, he was at Troyes, and with a suite of 
four officers travelled towards the metropolis at the 
rate of fifteen miles an hour, but did not hear of the 
decisive battle till within a few miles of the city. His 
army followed, marching with the unrivalled rapidity 
of more than fifty miles a day. Napoleon tried to in- 
flame the enthusiasm of his generals, and strike once 
more for France — but it was too late ; the enemies of 
the new dynasty and freedom had thrown their Bria- 
rean arms around both and crushed them. On the 11th 
of April, Bonaparte signed the articles of unconditional 
abdication of his throne, expressed in these words : — 

*' The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the 
Emperor Napoleon is the only obstacle to the re-es- 
tablishment of peace in Europe ; the Emperor Napo- 
leon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces 
for himself and his heirs the thrones of France and 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 3 77 

Italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that 
of Hfe, which he is not ready to make for the interests 
of France." 

Maria Louisa without having a parting interview 
with the Emperor as she requested, departed for Ram- 
bouillet with her son, and soon after for Austria. She 
was attached to Napoleon, but how unlike in her resig- 
nation to his fate, the disinterested and magnanimous 
Josephine. She in the mean time, was reading with 
swimming eye his last messages, or carrying them in 
her bosom, near her beating heart. 

Vague rumors only had broken the painful silence 
of many days, w4ien the subjoined letter confirmed her 
apprehensions, and revealed the changeless devotion of 
a proud and fallen monarch. 

"FoNTAINEBLEAU, April 16, 1814. 

" Dear Josephine, — I wrote to you on the 8th of 
this month (it was a Friday,) and perhaps you havp 
not received my letter. Hostilities still continued 
possibly it may have been intercepted ; at present the 
communications must be re-established. I have form- 
ed my resolution ; I have no doubt this billet will reach 
you. I will not repeat what I said to you : then I la- 
mented my situation ; and now I congratulate myself 
thereon. My head and spirit are free from an enormous 
weight. My fall is great, but at least it is useful, as 
men say. In my retreat I shall substitute the pen for 
the sword. The history of my reign will be curious ; 
the world has yet seen me only in profile — I shall show 



378 LLFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

myself in full. How many things have I to disclose ! 
how many are the men of whom a false estimate is en- 
tertained ! I have heaped benefits upon millions of 
wretches ! What have they done in the end for me ? 
They have all betrayed me — yes, all. I except from- 
this number the good Eugene, so worthy of you and of 
me. Adieu, my dear Josephine ; be resigned as I am, 
and ever remember him who never forgot, and never 
will forget you. Farewell, Josephine. Napoleon. 

" P. S. I expect to hear from you at Elba : I am 
not very well." 

When the paroxysm of grief was over, she spoke 
with all the ardor of her earnest spirit of the forsaken 
Exile : " I must not remain here — my presence is 
necessary to the Emperor. That duty is indeed more 
Maria Louisa's than mine ; but the Emperor is alone 
— forsaken. Well, I at least will not abandon him. I 
might be dispensed with while he was happy — now, 1 
am sure he expects me." Then turning with more 
composure to her chamberlain, added — " I may, how 
ever, interfere with his arrangements. You will re- 
main here with me till intelligence be received from 
the^ allied sovereigns — they will respect her who was 
the wife of Napoleon." 

The allied sovereigns did not disappoint her — she 
was urged to keep her residence at Malmaison, and 
assured of their friendship and protection. 

The Emperor Alexander of Russia, was especially 
attentive and kind to Josephine, and as the only refuge, 
she accepted the generous proposal, and was soon 



LIFE OF JOSFPUIXE. 379 

quietly restored to her favorite hermitage. Napoleon 
was a prisoner to the Kings of Europe, and like a caged 
eagle, his soaring genius was confined within the nar- 
row horizon of ocean-bound Elba, while their vulture 
gaze was still fixed anxiously upon him. Josephine's 
hf^art was there with the captive, as is seen in her 
letter addressed to him soon after his arrival upon the 
island. 

" Sire, — Now only can I calculate the w^hole extent 
of the misfortune of bavins: beheld mv union with vou 
dissolved by law ; now do I indeed lament being no 
more than your friend, who can but mourn over a mis- 
fortune great as it is unexpected. It is not the loss of 
a throne that I regret on your account ; I know from 
myself how such a loss may be endured ; but my heart 
sinks at the grief you must have experienced on sep- 
arating from the old companions of your glory. You 
must have regretted, not only your officers, but the 
soldiers, whose countenances, even names, and bril- 
liant deeds in arms you could recall, and all of whom 
you could not recompense ; for they were too numer- 
ous. To leave beroes like them deprived of their 
chief, who so often shared in their toils, must have 
struck your soul with unutterable grief; in that sor- 
row especially do I participate. 

" You will also have to mourn over the ingratitude 
and falling away of friends, on whom you deemed you 
could confide. Ah I sire, why cannot I fly to you ! 
why cannot I give you the assurance that exile has no 
terrors r^ave for vidua:- niinds. and that, far from dimin 



380 LIFE OP JOSEPHINB. 

ishing a sincere attachment, misfortune imparts to it 
new force ! I have been on the point of quitting France 
to follow your footsteps, and to consecrate to you the 
remainder of an existence which you so long embellish- 
ed. A single motive restrained me, and that you may 
divine. If I learn that, contrary to all appearance, 1 
am the only one who will fulfil her duty, nothing shall 
detain me, and I will go to the only place where hence- 
forth there can be happiness for me, since I shall be 
able to console you when you are there isolated and 
unfortunate ! Say but the word, and I depart. Adieu, 
sire ; whatever I would add would still be too Httle ; 
it is no longer by words that my sentiments for you are 
to be proved, and for actions your consent is neces- 
sary. Josephine. 

" Malmaison has been respected ; I am there sur- 
rounded with attentions by the foreign sovereigns, but 
had much rather not remain." 

But the constitution of Josephine began to yield to 
the repeated shocks it had sustained during the event- 
ful years, whose departure left her a divorced and 
crownless queen, and the Emperor who deserted her, 
a thronel-ess exile on a solitary island. To increase 
her solicitude and suffering, promised pensions were 
withheld, and her sensitive nature put to the torture 
by distressing embarrassment. As spring advanced, 
her system began to develop disease, and by the ap- 
plication of remedies, obtained a partial and transient 
restoration. This was in the beginning of May. On 
the tenth, she gave a dinner party, upon which oc- 



LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 38] 

casion among the distinguished guests, was the Em- 
peroi Alexander. Though suffering alternately the 
thrilling pain and chills which shook her delicate 
frame, she assumed her wonted smile, and after the 
entertainment, joined in games of amusement on the 
beautiful esplanade. Compelled at length to retire 
from the ring, she betrayed her suffering only by the 
pallor of her countenance, and in reply to inquiries, as- 
sured her friends it was fatigue, and would be gone 
with the morrow. But disease was doing its work. 
The successive days brought no relief, and by the 
25th, she was rapidly sinking before the ravages of a 
malignant quinsy. 

Physicians were constantly by her side ; science and 
love exhausted their resources to rescue the uncom- 
plaining sufferer from the skeleton hand of the de- 
stroyer. She was conscious of her danger, but sweet- 
ly avoided any intimation of it, or utterance of pain, 
that might distress those who were watching for a ray 
of returning hope. But none shone on the marble 
forehead of the dying Josephine. 

Eugene and Hortense were apprised by the physi- 
cians that death was near, that they might prepare for 
the dreaded event. They whispered with faltering 
accents in the ear of that mother, her approaching 
doom, while they hung over her couch with the agony 
of breaking hearts — like those beside the grave of 
hope. Nor is it strange that such grief was theirs ; a 
mother — and one who was an angel of love and guid- 
ance to their path, was just entering the portal of a 



382 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

bourne, whence no fond voice replies to the spirit's 
questioning or its bitter prayer. Josephine soon after 
received the sacrament. 

The Ernperor Alexander arriving, approached her 
bed-side ; and as the fading eye of Josephine recog- 
nized him, she rallied her departing strength, and, 
while a new light beamed upon his features and then 
fell on her kneeling and weeping children, — she beck- 
oned to the silent group about her to come near, and 
said with a celestial smile, and in tones of death's gen- 
tlest music : — 

" At least I shall die regretted ; I have always de- 
sired the happiness of France ; I did all in my powei 
to contribute to it ; and I can say with truth to all of 
you now present at my last moments, that the first 
wife of Napoleon never caused a single tear to 
flow." 

As these words died upon her lips, she passed into 
a slumber, unbroken till on the morning of the 29th of 
May, she left the shadows of time for the realm of 
immortalitv. 

The body was embalmed and laid in a coffin of 
sycamore lined with lead, and on the 2d of June, the 
funeral procession moved from Malmaison to the vil- 
lage of St. Ruel. While the remains lay in state, 
twenty thousand persons from various parts of France, 
came to look on the illustrious sleeper — and when the 
concourse followed her to the grave, sovereigns led 
the countless host, and two thousand poor formed the 
last company of mourners, deeply lamenting the loss 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 383 

of their benefactor. An oration was made on the oc- 
casion, by the Archbishop of Tours, and while prayers 
were offered by the bishops, Hortense was alone in 
her devotions, having retired to a chapel, where un- 
disturbed, she might pour her grief on the infinite bo- 
som of Him whose name is Love. And when the 
multitude had gone from the sacred edifice, how beau- 
tiful the spectacle of that dutiful daughter kneeling 
with Eugene beside the tomb ; and both baptizing it 
with their tears. Upon the simple monument of un- 
adorned marble, Josephine is represented in royal 
robes, in the attitude of kneeling, and on the memorial 
of virtue, whose snowy whiteness is no false symbol 
of character, is the brief and affecting inscription, 

" EUGENE AND HOKTENSE TO JOSEPHINE." 

In the narrative of stirring events, and common in- 
cidents ill the life of Josephine, the same unselfish 
motives of action, untarnished virtue, gentleness, and 
fidelity are always visible. She was endowed with a 
fine intellect, and an attractive, though not beautiful 
person. But what is most conspicuous and lovely, is 
her warm and earnest sym23athy with the suffering — 
her joy in doing good. And while the name of ISTapo- 
leon is repeated with admiring wonder at the splendor 
of his genius, and sadness because of its perversion, in 
the memory of all the good to the last hour of time 
will be embalmed the name of Josephine. 

THE END. 



£ 768 






